


All That Cannot Be

by irishgirl321



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Goddesses, Golden Age (Narnia), Happy Ending, Kings & Queens, Narnia, Peter Pevensie X Reader, Reader-Insert, Romance, Royalty, The Chronicles of Narnia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being yanked out of the twenty-first century by a talking lion, granted the powers of a goddess and sent to provide spiritual guidance to a land called Narnia and it's strange inhabitants, you think you've been given a bit more responsibility than you can handle.</p><p>Unfortunately, no-one warned you about the charms of a certain gorgeous blond-haired and blue-eyed High King, who may just be everything that you've ever been looking for...</p><p>...And not to mention everything that you're forbidden from having...</p><p> </p><p>Peter Pevensie X Reader.<br/>*Post-The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "All in due time."

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. This makes me sad but I can't change it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will NOT be playing too much/at all into the religious aspect of the Narnia series.
> 
> If you are wondering how the Reader (who is from modern times) can be pulled back to Narnia when the Pevensies (who lived during WWII) were there, this is not only fiction, but fanfiction. 
> 
> Also small warning here, this is gonna be my guilty pleasure story. Because it takes place in a mythical land my imagination will genuinely run wild. So sorry if it get too outlandish for you!
> 
> So, this is a reader-insert, where your name will be represented by: ______.
> 
> Excuse the slightly archaic language and old-fashioned way of speaking, but I felt like it was how the Pevensies would have started to speak in Narnia (seeing as they were now royalty, and had to sound it)! Yeah. I hope you like it :)
> 
> I also keep messing with the ages, but Peter is around 27/28 in this, while the reader character is around 25/26. Obviously it's up to you whether to ignore that or not.

Standing on the steps leading up to the four thrones in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel, Peter Pevensie sipped his wine from the crystal goblet that he held loosely in his right hand, and glanced around him. He was trying to appear as interested in the going-ons as possible, but if truth be told the ball was boring him. As they usually did. He was aware that up here with no one by his side, he must have struck a rather lonely figure, but he didn't mind. Around him the party was whirling in full force, the Hall filled with laughter, cheers, and the swaying bodies of the various dancing guests, but Peter was content in his solitude. It wasn't often that he got time to himself in such a public setting, and he was intent on enjoying it and to just survey everything that was happening around him.

However, his peace didn't last long. Peter found himself tapping his foot lightly as he greeted some high-born lord from Archenland who wandered up to him. After the usual polite greeting had been given, he wracked his head for an interesting topic of conversation, not wanting to let the conversation die with him looking like a disinterested and impolite fool. With a sudden surge of luck he remembered that this particular lord had recently had a son born to him, and so Peter proceeded to congratulate him on that. The man was ecstatic that he remembered, and thanked him continually for his well-wishes.

But before too long, the man was gone to tend to his exceedingly drunk brother, and Peter used that break to look around for his own siblings.

Soon, he spotted them. Edmund was sitting amidst a group of dwarves and foreign ambassadors, laughing loudly and drinking far too much wine than Peter thought his younger brother should be consuming. He shook his head, reminding himself that Edmund was now a man, and he was also a King. It would only prove highly embarrassing to him for Peter to order him not to drink with the others. It would only serve to belittle his brother infront of the guests, and Edmund had been so much better humoured then he'd been in years. Peter was loathe to risk spoiling that. Still, at times it was hard to curb his old protection instincts towards his siblings that had been ingrained into his very being.

Almost as if summoned by that thought, his mother's image and voice flashed through his mind.

_Promise me you'll look after the others._

_I will, mum._

Peter noticed with some discomfort and guilt that her picture in his mind was less substantial than it had once been. As much as he clung to the memory of her and his father, at times it felt like the memories of his old life were slowly slipping away from him, like water through his fingers.

A sudden laugh stopped him from dwelling on that any further, and his head snapped up just in time to see Susan whirl past in a blur of dark hair and white silk, in the arms of some foreign prince or lordling. By the flirtatious smiles he glimpsed on both of their faces, he gathered that they were enjoying each-other's company. Staring after them as they moved, he wondered if this dance may soon blossom into courtship. He could tell that Susan wouldn't mind if it did, but Peter knew that he would be more hesitant towards this young man. He'd have to ask around about this prince before he let his sister alone with him.

There were a lot of men who would gladly deceive a girl for the chance to hold a crown of Narnia.

That uneasy warning made Peter turn his attention to locating the whereabouts of his youngest sister. After a few seconds, he found her and had to smile. Lucy, despite being the easiest to get along with of the Pevensie family, was sticking to the shadows by the side of her beloved friend, the faun Tumnus. They were conversing happily, only interacting with one another, and Lucy was hopping from foot to foot in some strange sort of jig that had her companion shaking his head and laughing fondly. Satisfied that the faun would not let anything happen to her, Peter glanced away again. His eyes roved once more over the crowd, before a loud giggle hit his ears.

_Not again._

He twisted slightly to see a gaggle of young women staring at him coyly, and whispering and giggling among themselves. Successfully stopping himself from sighing in exasperation, Peter just smiled politely and raised his glass in salute to them. The giggling reached a new pitch, and a few of the girls shrieked in glee. Peter felt like rolling his eyes at just how silly they were acting, but to do so would be considered highly rude of him, so instead he just set down his glass on the nearest long table, and gave them a goodbye nod. Ever since he had become High King, a lot of women had been acting like this around him.

Straightening up and brushing down his deep blue tunic, the young High King found his gaze settling on the open doorway to the balcony outside.

_Some air might be nice after all..._

He ambled towards the door, dodging past the guests and various servers, before stepping out into the cool air of the outside. Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes as the night wrapped him in it's embrace. When he opened his eyes again, he became aware of a solitary figure standing directly infront of him, staring down onto the beach below. After a second of inspection, he realised it was a woman; Standing silhouetted against the moonlight. 

  

* * *

 

A gentle breeze stirred the skirt of your lilac dress and tussled your hair as you stood on the balcony of Cair Paravel, hands braced on the white stone wall infront of you. It was a gorgeous night, and you could hear the waves washing against the shore below you. Staring up into the starry sky, you tried to relax. To your chagrin, your shoulders stayed tensed, and none of your worry diminished. Glancing behind you into the Great Hall, you chewed your lower lip nervously.

You were seriously delaying, and you knew it. But who could really blame you? You were doing this completely on your own, you hadn't been given a script or anything, and so you had absolutely no clue what to say to the rulers of Narnia when you finally met with them.

 _Hi. Your Highnesses. My name's ______, and I've been sent here on the Great Lion Aslan's behalf to become the spiritual leader of your people. Because I am a demi-goddess. Yes, it was a surprise to me too. No, you can put away the straight jacket please_.

Your ridiculous inner babble made you snort with indignation. Being honest, you weren't even sure if they actually had straight jackets here.

"Not enjoying the festivities?" a voice called, and you were aware of someone coming to stand beside you.

It was the voice of a young man, somewhere in his late twenties, polite and yet strong.

"This is not really my sort of thing," you replied while absent-mindedly gesturing towards the party as you turned to look at your new companion.

Much to your pleasant surprise, you found that he was rather handsome. Very handsome, in-fact. He was tall, taller than you, with perfectly styled blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

"Mine neither," he agreed, a boyish grin creeping onto his face. "And you don't know how glad I am that I'm not the only one who thinks it! I've been feeling very alone and anti-social these past few hours, while everyone e else enjoys themselves and I just mope!"

"Glad I could be of service," you laughed, allowing yourself to delay from the task of funding the ruler of Narnia.

"I don't blame you for standing out here," the young man continued, white teeth flashing as he spoke. "It's rather a glorious night"

"It is indeed," you murmured, turning to stare up at the twinkling stars in the sky. "It was very peaceful out here."

The guy started, causing you to turn and look questioningly at him. A slightly uncomfortable look was creeping across his face.

"I apologize if I interrupted you, milady," he said uncertainly as he began to back away slowly. "I did not mean to spoil your serenity."

You suddenly realised how your previous remark could have been interperated, and you were quick to rectify what he must have been thinking.

"No, sir, you did not disturb me at all. In-fact, you saved me from pouring over my worries for too long."

His shoulders relaxed, and he moved back to your side. His hands set upon the low lying wall infront of you both, and you could feel the heat of his body from where his arm just about brushed yours.

"That is good to know," he rumbled. "I was afraid that I had imposed myself on you."

"If you had, I would have told you to get lost!" you joked, twisting the skirt part of your dress in your hand nervously.

He laughed at that, and then raised a curious brow at you. "May I ask you something?"

"You may"

"Where is your entourage?" he questioned, peering around like he expected to see a gaggle of people hiding behind a pillar.

"My entourage?" you repeated in confusion.

"Yes. A group of your peers, friends or servants, who accompany you to these events? I can see by your finery that you're more than likely someone of exceedingly high birth, and ladies of such always have their followers"

"Oh..." you said slowly, and then blushed as you felt even more out of place. "I don't have any. He, um, my... My father told me to come alone."

"You came here alone!?" the man exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Yes, but it's alright," you laid a reassuring hand on his arm, flattered at his concern. "I am more than capable of handling myself."

He looked troubled as his sympathetic eyes bore into yours.

"That maybe so," he shook his head, "But I could never send my sisters anywhere alone."

"I'm not alone now," you smiled shyly, "You're here."

_Oh my God, you were flirting with him?!_

"Well, I hope my company is satisfactory?" he asked, and you noted the slightly flirtatious undertone to his voice.

"It is most satisfactory, I assure you," you smiled, feeling a small thrill at the fact that such a handsome young man was paying attention to you.

"Good," he grinned as the wind ruffled his blond hair.

You noted the crown that sat proudly on his brow, and realised that he must be royalty.

"And your company is much better than most of those back in the Hall," he complimented. "You don't seem to indulge in fake flattery or meaningless pleasantries, and you are capable of holding an interesting conversation. And you don't simper. You don't simper most of all."

"Well," you smiled apologetically at the stranger. "I'm afraid you won't have much of my company for long, now. I have some matter that I need to attend to."

"Oh?" he asked, leaning against the low wall.

"A... Business matter," you decided to tell him. It was kind of true?

"With who?" 

"The High King Peter of Narnia." 

There was a glimmer of interest and amusement in his eyes.

"About what?" he tried again, but you just shook your head.

"What I have to say is for the ears of the High King to hear before any others," you refused him as politely as you could, as he seemed like a nice guy, but that couldn't allow you to forget duty or propriety.

"Well, if you are going to be entering into formal business mode soon, would you at least do me the honour of a single dance before your audience with the High King?"

You tilted your head to the side, and mulled it over for a few seconds.

It's not like you didn't want to. Your new powers had made you much more nimble and graceful than you were before; Perfectly capable of following his steps, and matching them with easy confidence. He was exceedingly handsome and kind also, not too mention he was as interesting as he claimed you were. There was something about him, the playful glint in his eye and easy lightness to his tone that made you like and trust him at the same time. It was so very... Attractive, but you had a job to do and didn't have time to dwell on what could be a developing crush on some foreign prince that will probably be sailing back to his country before morning.

But his soon departure was also an excellent reason to accept, because when would you ever see him again?

"Yes..." You trailed off as a thought hit you. "I'm sorry, but I don't even know your name."

"Tell me yours first," he encouraged for some strange reason, and so you relented and did.

"Now, what's your name?" You asked again, arching a brow as you placed on hand on your hip.

"All in due time," he smirked, and then offered you his hand.

You thought about not taking it, demanding that he tell you who was before you went back into the castle and danced with him. Something in his expression stopped you. Trust me, his eyes were saying playfully. So you just simply rolled your own eyes, and slipped your hand into his. He took hold of it gently, and then began to carefully lead you back into the Great Hall. You followed obediently, with the hand that was not lightly gripping his reaching down to lift the hem of your ball dress slightly off the ground. In the twenty-first century on Earth, you had never worn anything like this before, and so you were continually afraid that you may trip over it's long skirt and fall. That would be rather embarrassing for you, to say the least. It was an rather irrational fear though, as the gown was designed so that it would not trip you.

Within seconds, you entered the Great Hall, and made your way up the middle aisle towards the space cleared for dancing just below the dais. At first, people seemed to take no notice of you, but then, almost instantaneously, it seemed as if everyone was staring at you. People stopped what they were doing, head following your steps as you passed them by, and the chatter and laughter turned into a frantic buzz of low-spoken voices. You shrank back as you caught sight of a group of beautiful girls staring at you, but you were tugged onwards by the prince. He was striding forward confidently, his head held high and his blue eyes intent on a certain spot of the floor before him.

"Stop fretting," he whispered to you as you raised a hand to run it nervously through your hair. "You look astounding."

_Jeez, mate, come on strong much?_

"Everyone is staring," you informed him as you reached a clear spot in the middle of the floor.

Ignore them," he commanded, pulling you so that you faced him.

A new, slow song began to play, it's melody beautiful and haunting. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, the prince bowed low, and you curtsied in time with him. You both rose up, and then he raised his hand infront of him, straightening it so that his palm was facing towards you. Months of being tutored on Narnian customs before you arrived, you knew immediately which dance he had chosen, so you also lifted your hand into the air, uncurled it so that it was ram-rod straight, and held it right infront of his. If you had moved your hand closer another two centimetres, it would have been pressed flat against his, but the dance decreed that you were not meant to touch just yet, and you were to retain eye-contact at all times. 

Slowly, you walked in a counter-clockwise circle around one another, keeping your steps nimble and graceful. You were dimly aware out of the corner of your eye of another girl with dark hair and a white dress watching you both curiously as her dance partner wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. You didn't glance at her, however, just kept your gaze on the young man infront of you as you completed the circle. As soon as you were back into your original position, you both switched the hands that you held infront of you, and moved in a clockwise circle, still not touching. The guy's lips were curving upwards in some secret amusement as he stared at you. Soon, you were back once again in your starting position. This time, both hands were held millimetres from each-other infront of you as you moved in another counter-clockwise circle.

Arriving back in your original position for the very last time, you were only there for a split second before you moved as one into a waltz. One of your hands was once more taken in his. Your other hand slid to to place itself just behind his shoulder, while his free hand came to lightly rest midway up your back. As the people around you began to move in time to the music, you did too. He took the lead easily, expertly guiding you around the centre of the floor, and you were happy to follow. 

There was no stepping on dresses, no trodding on one another's feet, or messing up a step. There was just this single, perfectly in sync dance. 

The lights from the chandelier above flickered over the prince's face, and in their fleeting shards of light you realised all over again how very handsome he was. Catching your somewhat awed look before you could hide it, he gave you another dazzling smile as you moved in time to the beat. You grinned back shyly, before your eyes caught on the crown upon his head once again.

"Who are you?" you asked him quietly, though you knew he could hear you.

"You will know once this dance is over," he promised, readjusting his hold to bring you a little closer. "But let's just enjoy this dance for now."

Once more you thought about arguing, but you were enjoying yourself too much, so you just let it be. It seemed like the dance only went on for seconds, but you had heard the phrase 'time flies when you're having fun' before, and knew that that must have been what happened. You briefly stopped to question why you were having so much fun with a guy that you had only just met, but then you just shrugged it off and continued dancing. He was cute and nice, that was it. You weren't going to get attached or anything.

The song ended, and you heard him sigh as he released you and stepped back to eye you ruefully.

"I don't suppose I can bribe another dance out of you?" he asked, though it seemed he already knew the answer.

"I'm sorry," you replied regretfully, wishing that you could accept. "But it is urgent that I speak to the King, and I have delayed too much already."

The prince bit his lip, and averted his eyes nervously to the ground. You stared at him curiously, the both of you still standing in the middle of the dance-floor.

"What is it?" you pressed.

"What... What if I was to tell him that you hadn't delayed speaking to him?" the young man said eventually.

"What?" your brow furrowed. "But that's not possible. The only person at this ball who I have spoken to is _you..._ "

His eyes flickered up to you, and something clicked. 

_The amused, secretive smiling._

_The refusal to tell you his name until after you had danced._

_The reactions of everyone in the Great Hall upon your entrance._

"You!?" you gasped, eyes wide.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted sheepishly.

"You're High King Peter," you repeated, feeling incredibly stupid.

"So I am told on a regular basis," he tried to joke.

"Why didn't you just tell me from the start?" you demanded.

"Well... When they find out who I am, most people, especially girls, they utterly change in how they act towards me. We were having a nice conversation. I wanted to keep it that way,"

"This is very, um, unexpected," you managed to stutter out.

"And I'm sorry about that. I sincerely am," he said earnestly. "But don't you agree that it was more enjoyable this way?"

You wanted to say no, to say you would have just preferred him to tell you who he was so you could have gotten your meeting over and and done with. But you found that you couldn't say it, because he had spoken the truth. It had been a lot more fun.

"Now, shall we get down to business?" the High King asked as he folded your arm into the crook of his and escorted you off the dance-floor. 

"Well," you managed to get out even though you were still in shock. "I was rather hoping for a private audience with His Highness and his siblings?"

The High King bit his lip.

"It would appear too rude to abandon our guests while the ball is still happening," he told you after a few seconds. "And I fear that my brother and sisters may be too tired afterwards to fully comprehend whatever it is you have to say. Perchance we could meet on the morrow to discuss the matter at hand? I would be more than happy to offer you a room in the castle for the night."

You mulled it over, and then shrugged. It wasn't like you only had a limited time in Narnia, you were here for the foreseeable future. You had been in a hurry to tell them, but you were willing to delay one night.

"Tomorrow will be just fine, my liege, if you're sure that it suits you and your family also?"

"It will," he promised as you both reached a table. "Then we will see what you have to say. I must say, you have piped my curiosity immensely."

The High King then pulled out a chair, and waved at you to sit down. You were once again charmed by his manners, and smiled in thanks as you sat down. Gently, he pushed your chair towards the table and then moved to take the seat opposite.

"Thank you, sir," you repeated as he poured you a glass of wine from the decanter that sat in-front of you.

"It's my pleasure," he said politely. "If there is anything else you need, the servants will be passing by with trays of food at all times. Just wave them over."

"I'll keep that in mind," you smiled, brushing some hair back from your face. "However I am not too hungry at the moment"

"Suit yourself," he chuckled, and beckoned to a smiling faun who was carrying a platter of pastries.

The smell of the freshly baked goods hit you, and you felt your mouth beginning to water.

"Are you sure you don't want one now?" Peter Pevensie smirked as he plucked one of the tray.

"Maybe just one?" you relented, laughing, and the faun immediately skipped to your side.

 "Thank you!" you smiled at the horned man as you picked something off the tray at random.

He grinned back at you, jovially, bowed, and then turned to scramble merrily away. You laughed as he hopped in the middle of his skip before disappearing once more into the crowd. Turning back, you noticed the High King was watching you.

"What?" you asked a little self-consciously.

"You were nice to him. Most people of high standing can be a bit dismissive of those lower than them. Seeing you so polite was quite... Endearing."

You felt your cheeks heating up in pleased embarrassment, and dropped your gaze to the white linen cloth that was stretched over the table infront of you. His words really shouldn't get to you this much, but this man seemed to have a natural instinct for making you blush.

"They matter too," you replied softly. "I just think the world is much nicer when everyone gets along."

"I think so too," he responded, raising his wine-glass into the air. "Cheers to that thought."

Trying not to smile too widely, you lifted your glass and lightly clinked it against his. Raising it to your lips, you both drank deeply.

"I hope you can hold your liquor, if you're going to continue to drink like that," he joked as you set the empty goblets down on the table. "Narnian wine may not seem to be very strong in taste, but don't let that deceive you. Three glasses and your head will be spinning."

"Which you've learned from personal experience, I presume?" you asked playfully, the wine already taking effect and making you bolder.

"Unfortunately so," he chuckled. "Though not to the extent that my brother, Edmund, did. We lost him one night, and found him the next morning passed out on the beach below Cair Paravel. He could barely walk three steps back towards the castle, he was so hungover. It was very many years ago, but still funny."

"With all due respect, wouldn't he have been rather young, sire?" you were shocked.

_So hypocritical, it wasn't like you'd never been drunk of WKD in a public park when you were fourteen._

"Well, not really any-more. He'll be twenty-four years old in less than a week, though this incident took place when he was around fifteen. And please, enough with the titles. Just call me Peter."

"Peter," you repeated to yourself, much like how he had repeated your name earlier.

He responded by smirking at you, and saying your name.

"Out of curiosity, where are your siblings?" you peered around at the people crowding the enormous Great Hall.

You were aware of some of the girls littering the side-lines of the dance-floor still shooting you dirty looks, but you just ignored them. You were fully aware that they were only looking at you like that because you were in the company of the handsome High King of Narnia.

_Some women could be so petty._

Peter straightened up on the chair, and peered around the room. His eyes were squinted as he attempted to pierce the half-darkness to locate his siblings. After a few seconds a smile crossed his features and he rose. Dragging his chair around to your side of the small, circular table, he settled down beside you so that your arms brushed together. He leaned on closer, and raised one hand to point so you could follow it.

"Over there," he said, pointing at a tiny girl in a green dress. "Is my youngest sister, Queen Lucy. That faun by her side is Sir Tumnus, her closest friend."

"She's adorable," you gazed at the smiling face of the younger girl and feeling a strange surge of affection for her.

While she looked to be in her early twenties, she still had an air of childish innocence around her.

"She is," Peter smiled, and you could tell that he was deeply pleased by the praise of the sister that he so obviously loved. "And that," he indicated to a dark-haired young man dancing with a girl in a pale pink dress. "Is my younger brother, King Edmund."

"He seems happy," you intoned, watching the boy throw back his head and laugh.

"Much happier than he's been in a long time," Peter informed you. "Now, where is Susan?"

He rose to his feet as he scanned the crowd for her.

_Nothing._

You watched in growing apprehension as he twisted and turned, examining every area of the room. His brow was beginning to furrow in worry, and you got a deep, uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

_Something was not right._

"Maybe she's outside," Peter muttered, more to himself than to you.

He pulled you gingerly to your feet, and then made for the door of the Great Hall,. You were unsure if he realised that he was still holding your hand, but you figured that he was rather distracted, and so maybe did not even notice. 

His steps were strong, determined, and people knew it. The crowd parted to let you both through as Peter stormed past with his cape cracking behind him. Before long, you were in sight of where you and he had met, on that balcony outside the Hall, overlooking the beach. But now it was completely empty, the only thing to see was a red flag with a golden lion on it flapped solitary in the wind. Peter turned his attention to the two formidable-looking centaurs at the door.

"Orieus," he called, stepping forward to the taller one.

The creature's head turned toward him.

"My King?" he rumbled.

"Has Queen Susan passed this way?" Peter questioned, still tightly gripping your hand.

"She has, sire," the centaur bowed his head. "She and that boy she was with made for the gardens. She ordered me to remain here when I offered to accompany her."

"Thank you," Peter touched the guard's arm, before dropping his head and whispering; "Dammit, Susan"

"Peter-," you began, but he stopped you.

"One second, I need to speak with my brother."

His head suddenly rose snapped to the side, and he let out a single, strong summons.

_"Edmund!"_

The dark haired boy was at his side in almost an instant. You watched as his brown eyes flickered to you, then down to you and Peter's interlocked hands. Feeling uncomfortable under so many eyes, you removed your hand from the High King's. Peter did not seem to notice, just let his eyes bore into his brother's face.

"Have you seen Susan?"

Edmund looked around, worry beginning to cross his features; "Not... Not for a while now."

Peter bit his bottom lip, and you could see worry flash across him. He hid it quickly, but both you and his brother had caught it in that fleeting second.

"Is something wrong?" Edmund asked in a low, concerned voice.

"I'm not sure," Peter replied. "She's not in the Hall. Orieus said that she headed for the gardens with some boy."

"Do you want me to go and look?" Edmund's hand went to his side, where his sword was usually strapped to his waist.

However, his weapon wasn't there now. You figured it was a habit for him now to reach for it when he felt threatened.

"No," Peter instructed. "It could be nothing, but I don't like her heading off alone with some boy she barely knows. Stay here and keep close to Lucy, would you?"

"Of course," Edmund replied, turning on his heel and scurrying back towards his younger sister.

The oldest Pevensie then returned his attention to you.

"I'm going to go out and look for her," he told you, placing his hands on both of your shoulder. "I want you to remain here in the Hall. It could be too dangerous-"

"I'm going with you," you argued firmly. "You may need me."

He chuckled kindly, though there was impatience and worry in his eyes. "You're a brave girl, and I appreciate the offer of help, but in-case something bad is afoot I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I will take Orieus, and you will stay put. Do you understand?"

"Peter, I can-"

"Do you understand!?" he demanded more urgently. "I need to go look for my sister, and I wouldn't leave unless you say you won't follow. You're delaying me, right now. _Do you understand!?"_

"I understand" You snapped angrily, crossing your arms.

"Good," he breathed a sigh of relief, and then let go of you.

He stepped backwards, still facing you, and the light from the chandelier fell across his face once more.

"I'll find you when I get back," he promised, "We need to sort out your accommodation in the castle."

"'Kay," you muttered, still cross.

Smiling apologetically at you one more time, he turned away from you and kicked into a jog. You watched as he reached the two centaurs on guard duty at the door, and spoke to them both earnestly. The one who you knew as Orieus stepped forward, while the other nodded and remained in position, only reaching behind him to pass the High King a sheathed sword. Peter strapped it to his waist, and you realised that it must have been his own weapon by the way that the belt fit his waist so perfectly. Peter glanced back at you once more, and noted you watching him. You had glanced away as soon as you'd copped on to him looking, but it had been too late and he had seen. He sternly said something else to the remaining centaur, and beckoned to Orieus. Together, they both headed off into the night. The other centaur looked far more alert than he had been ten minutes ago, and straightened up to scrutinise everything around him. You decided to take the chance, and plastered on your most charming smile.

Sauntering up to him, you beamed at him and said: "Excuse me, I'm just going out for a little air."

"No one is to leave, milady," he snapped, moving to block your path. "The High King has ordered it."

_Drat._

"Surely a woman is allowed to go get a little breathing space for an upset stomach?" you tried again, but he remained firm.

"No, ma'am."

You sighed loudly, and ran a hand through your hair, not caring any-more if you messed it up. You then looked up into the centaur's stern brown eyes.

"I really didn't want to have to do this," you told him apologetically.

"What do you mean you-," he began, tightening his grip on his weapon.

Before he could finish, you fixed your eyes on him as a familiar tinge started to spread from your fingers and all through your body. He froze, staring at you, completely mesmerized. You could feel pressure in your eyes, and didn't even need a mirror to know that your eyes were changing from their usual colour to one as golden as a lion's mane.

"You're going to let me through," you told him in a voice as gentle as a summer breeze. "You're going to let me through."

"I'm... Going to let you through," he repeated, sounding wiped of all emotion except for awe.

"You're going to let me through," you finished. "Then you're going to forget about me telling you to let me past."

"I'm going to let you through... And then I'm going to forget about you telling me to let you past," he agreed dazedly.

"Good man, uh, centaur," you said, blinking hard and breaking eye contact.

The centaur seemed to shudder, closing his eyes and shaking his head. When he opened them, he was himself once more. With one difference, however; He stepped out of your way to allow you through.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling extremely guilty.

You didn't like using that particular power; Stripping some-one of their free will and imposing your own. It just felt... Wrong. Unnatural. It was definitely not a power that had been given to you lightly, but Aslan had agreed that you could use it when you were in need of it. If Queen Susan was in danger than it would most certainly prove to be a time where it was needed.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts that were jumbling your mind, you peered ahead into the darkness.

_There._

You could just about make out the shapes of the High King and his guard as they passed under a bridge in the distance. If it wasn't for the torch strapped to the wall, you would have missed them entirely. Picking up your skirts, you hurried after them, all the while cursing yourself once again for not wearing something easier to run in. Then again, it hadn't really been your choice. You were just blasted to this damned land in this. Still, a nice pair of breeches (or whatever it was that people wore here) would have done quite nicely with all this running and sneaking around.

So, you increased your pace and set off after them, murmuring quiet incantations to muffle your steps and make your body almost as transparent as mist. Cold air rushed through your veins, and you knew that if you looked down you would see your body shimmer, and then fade slightly. You did not disappear completely, but at night the mist-like quality that you called upon yourself was harder to see. You were able to use this combination to draw almost level with Peter and Orieus as they hurried down the outside of the many buildings that made up the castle of Cair Paravel. You stayed slightly behind them, and a bit to Peter's right. The two were talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Why would she have gone off alone with a boy she didn't know!?" Peter was fretting. "I've warned her about such things so many times! When are they all going to learn to do as they're told!?"

"When they have learned the consequences of not doing as they are told," Orieus said gravely. "You remember your brother, King Edmund? It was through his mistakes that he learned his lesson, and now he makes them no more."

"I... I just fear for them, Orieus, My mother, the last time that I saw her, made me promise to look after them," Peter confessed, causing your heart to lurch with pity for him.

"You are doing just fine," the centaur reassured him. "You are doing the best that you can, and it is enough. You cannot change someone's nature, only guide them to do it themselves."

Peter didn't seem like he was about to reply, but you never would have known, for that moment the centaur yelled loudly, causing you and Peter to both jump in shock. The next thing you heard was the galloping of hooves as Orieus took off towards a crumpled body lying around a hundred feet infront of you all. Peter took off after him, yelling his sister's name. You heart was in your chest as you raced along behind them, and your lack of concentration allowed the magic to wash away so that you were completely visible once more.

"Susan!" Peter cried, dropping down beside the form that Orieus was stooped over.

You hovered over them, panting, and stared down as Peter stiffened.

_It wasn't Susan._

A boy lay on the ground, a familiar looking boy. After a few seconds your mind placed him as the young man who was hugging the waist of the dark-haired girl who had watched in fascination as you and Peter danced. As you recalled King Edmund's looks, you realised how much his features had looked like that of the pretty girl in the white dress.

_She must have been Queen Susan, then._

"What happened!?" Peter demanded as he shook the shoulders of the other unconscious boy, desperately trying to wake him up. "What _happened!?"_

"Peter!" you cried, tugging his shoulder as the boy's head lolled limply on his shoulders.

Your voice had him twisting around in shock as he let go of the boy, who was luckily, caught by Orieus before he could slam into the ground and possibly injure himself gravely.

"What are you doing here!?" He demanded, lurching to his feet. "I _told_ you to stay inside."

"And I told _you_ I could help," you shot back.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, irritation blazing in his eyes, but Orieus spoke before he could.

"My King! He is coming around!"

Peter attention turned back to the young man on the ground, who had started to cough and splutter loudly. Orieus thumped him on the back, while Peter knelt once more straight infront of him, and stared into his face.

"What happened?" He growled, lapis-lazuli eyes glinting dangerously, "Where is my sister?"

The boy gasped, holding his head in his hands. It was then that you noticed the steady trickle of blood running down from a rather gash on his forehead. His face was pale and sweaty, and he was trembling all over. 

"Move," you ordered, shouldering Peter aside and crouching down to grip the boy's shoulders.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your conciousness to expand, rushing down your arms and into your fingertips. Your hands glowed white, and you could see the light behind your closed lids. The boy shuddered even more underneath your grasp, and then gasped loudly as he felt your mind brush over his.

"Concussion," you said finally as you withdrew. "Not terrible, but he should be looked at."

"Not before he tells me where Susan is!" Peter snapped, too caught up in his fear for his sister to wonder about what you had just done.

"The... The Queen..." The boy rasped, eyelids drooping. "Nothing I could do... They hit me..."

"Who," Peter demanded. "Who did _what!?"_

"They took her... They... Took Queen Susan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, CLIFFHANGER!
> 
> I'm only planning to continue this story if I get a few followers for it, so if you like it so far and want to see more, please let me know in the comments! Warning, there may be some mistakes, because I've been writing it for three days now, and as soon as I finished I just wanted to upload it and get it over and done with straight away. It's also not Beta-Read. I'll fix any mistakes when I check it tomorrow.
> 
> So, this is what I imagine your dress to look like: http://image.dhgate.com/albu_273865948_00-1.0x0/medieval-wedding-dress-lotr-renaissance-fantasy.jpg (You can imagine it anyway that you want, but I just think this one's awesome. Plus, purple looks good on everyone)
> 
> And if you're wondering about the dance you and Peter do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10SVwR8K9mI (Yes it is from TVD, but I love it and Delena is my OTP. JUDGE ME, I DON'T EVEN CARE)


	2. "We leave at first light."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late coming out. I'm back at school now, and I don't get home until half 8 every night so I really don't have time to write during the week. Or the weekend because I go out with my friends.  
> I have some time now because I'm sick with 'respiratory tract infection,' and the doctor doesn't want me to go back to school until at least Monday. So yeah, excuse me the chapter for being so short, but I really wanted to update this for you as quickly as I could, and I just cannot focus anymore.
> 
> Much thanks for the kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions. You lovely people really do make my day!

Your footsteps thudded against the cool marble floor underneath you as you paced back and forth in your recently acquired chambers, the hem of your dress swishing by your feet. You had no idea when you were going to be let out again. (Yes, you were aware that you could just use magic to unpick the lock, and then compel the guard once more, but you had already disobeyed the High King once, and while he may forgive you for that; Doing it a second wouldn't a great start to your relationship). After the discovery of the Archenland lordling near the gardens, Peter had immediately ordered all available guards to stand watch in every occupied hall of Cair Paravel. The guests were also suggested to return to their chambers for their safety, but some had decided to just board their ships and leave on the spot. The kidnapping of the Narnian Queen had made them afraid for their own well-being, so they were fleeing and Peter couldn't order them not to as they were not his subjects.

You still remained, as you had no choice but to be. You were aware that Peter and King Edmund would have convened with their council in the War Hall; They had probably been there for the past few hours. You knew that you should be there too. You could help them, if only they let you do so. Shaking your head in annoyance, you decided that enough was enough and went over to the door. You raised your clenched fist to hammer on it, to demand to be let out. Before your hand could even make contact with the door, it swung open with a groan.

Your momentum carried your forward, and you staggered into the chest of the awaiting centaur.

_Yeah, for a goddess you weren't overly graceful. Even with the improved grace._

Strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you before you could do something as embarrassing as fall flat on your face. Sighing as you straightened up, you brushed some hair out of your eyes.

"I am sorry," you apologised, and then quailed slightly in shame as you recognised Orieus.

"Milady," the centaur rumbled, bowing his head respectfully. "The High King requests your presence. I am here to take you to him."

"Let's go then," you said, and he looked slightly surprised by your willingness to obey.

You gathered that after you had followed him and his King from the Great Hall when ordered not to, he held you now as a bit of a troublemaker. That suited you fine. Before you were thrust into a magical land and granted all this responsibility that you neither wanted nor asked for, you had been one to bend the rules slightly. Never much, and never to do harm. You had just liked to have fun.

The centaur hesitated, and looked down at your dress. You immediately thought that you must have gotten a stain on it, and dropped your gaze down to it anxiously.

"What?" you questioned.

"You may need to change your choice of attire," he told you hesitantly, as if expecting you to through a hissy-fit. "The High King is in the stables. I do not think that your dress will keep well amidst the hay."

"Oh," you laughed, laying a friendly hand on the creature's brawny arm. "You had me scared for a second! I thought that I may have spilled something on my dress, and then gone the entire night without noticing! That would have been highly embarrassing."

The centaur gave you a slow smile, and you got the feeling that he didn't do that often. 

"I will give you a few minutes to change," he bowed his head once more, and his hooves clattered as he retreated a few paces away from you.

You pushed the door closed behind him, and retreated back into the room. You were just about to turn back towards the bed and try figure out how to conjure up some clothes (seeing as you had just been blasted here in a ball-gown, with no luggage) when a loud thud caught your attention. Spinning around to face the massive four poster, you were just in time to see a chest finish bouncing around on the mattress from where it had landed abruptly, out of thin air. Shaking your head in amusement, you raised your eyes skyward, for no other reason than it seemed appropriate to address your comment up that way.

"Thanks."

You walked forward, still silently laughing to yourself. Stopping at the bed, you stooped over and unbuckled the large trunk. Inside it was filled with clothes, casual, fancy, and alike. You smiled, rooting through it down to the bottom. you were curious to see everything, and soon clothes littered the bed in a mess that you would probably hate yourself for later. Your fingers brushed against something harder than everything else. Frowning slightly, you carefully pulled it out.

A suit of armour lay infront of you. You didn't even have to try it on to know that it would fit you perfectly.

Grinning, you held it up infront of you and examined the swirling golden designs set against the ebony background. A prancing gold lion sat proudly upon the breastplate.

_Damn, I'm gonna look good in battle._

_Wait. I've never even been in a battle._

_Why am I so excited at this prospect?_

You grinned to yourself once more, and then lay it back down on the bed. You decided to just wear a long blue tunic over the grey leggings, as it was a nice outfit yet casual enough to wear to a barn. After running your fingers through your hair and debating whether or not you had time too brush it, you decided to just leave it (as there were more important things at hand, like a missing Queen for example).

Stalking back over to the door, you yanked it open. The awaiting centaur didn't even seem startled by your sudden reappearance, just looked you critically up and down. For a few seconds you wondered if he was going to just make you change again, wasting even more time, but he remained silent and motioned for you to follow him out of the room. Apparently you met some sort of unspoken dress code, then.

It was kind of hard to keep up with an agitated centaur.

You learned this pretty quickly as you soon broke into a slight jog in order to keep up with him.

It was probably the best thing to do, seeing as you weren't sure how you would have fared if you had been left behind. The rest of the guards watched you pass with hard, stony eyes. The shock brought on by the abduction of their Queen had jarred them, and they would not allow for any rule-breaking young woman sneaking out of their rooms. Not that they'd harm you, of course, just escort you back to your chambers and lock you up for another few hours until you melted from boredom.

 

* * *

 

"In there," Orieus pointed into the stables.

You looked up at the centaur, slightly nervous, as a cold breeze stirred your clothing. Your arms crossed across your chest to keep warm, attempting to block out the chill. 

"You should have brought a cloak."

The centaur's words startled you.

Looking up at him, you quietly intoned; "With all that's happened tonight, I didn't get time to think of the little things."

The centaur eyed you, and then nodded appreciatively. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the fact that you could almost feel him thawing towards you. After a few seconds of silence, a thought crossed your mind and you started slightly.

"I should go in," you stared at the barn, how it's walls flickered with shadows cast by the torchlight.

It was the early hours of the morning, but still pitch black out.

"Yes, you should. The High King is waiting inside."

"Right-o," you shifted on the balls of your feet, still not moving.

You were suddenly extremely nervous to find out what Peter wanted you about.

"My lady?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you meant to enter the stables?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes I am."

"And you are delaying because..?"

Your hands fell to fidget in agitation. You could feel the huge centaur's eyes on you.

"No reason," you sighed at last, giving in. "Thank you for escorting me, General Orieus. I'll go in now."

You were about to take a step forward when a large, warm hand settled on your arm. You halted, confused as the centaur did not seem like one who would be entirely comfortable with bodily contact with a near stranger.

"You'll be safe, the abductors are no longer around," he promised, obviously mistaken your hesitance as fear for your own person. "I will be right outside."

You didn't bother to correct him, just nodded weakly. He released you, straightening up, and you walked into the dark interior of the stables.

Immediately, the outside world seemed to disappear. In the faint torchlight you could make out the clean array of the building, the straw covering the ground.  A pitchfork was propped up against the wall to your right, directly beside what seemed to be the only empty stall in the place. Around you, horses neighed, dipping their heads and eyeing you with emotive dark eyes. A large piebald mare to your right stretched her head out and blew a raspberry, the wind ruffling your hair. You felt a smile crossing your face. You had always loved animals, but horses had been one of your favourite creatures (along with dogs, dogs most of all. You were never big on cats, and that idea only served as amusing now). Tentatively, you reached out a hand for her to sniff. Her ears pricked forward and you took that as a sign to pet her for a few seconds. The healthy smell of the animals was strangely comforting, and you found that you had it in you to step away from the mare and traipse further into the stables.

Stepping out infront of a chestnut horse, you skipped back slightly as he nickered in alarm, rearing ever so slightly. Your sudden appearance had spooked him.

"Woah there, boy!" you tried to calm him, reaching out to touch his nose.

You were totally not expecting what happened next.

"My name is Philip," the horse said in a voice thick with annoyance.

Your hand was jerked back to your chest as you stared at the horse in shock.

After a minute, you shook your head and smiled, amused at your reaction. You had spent the last few years of your life in the constant presence of a talking lion, why should a talking horse startle you so much?

"Apologies," you said smoothly. "Sometimes I forget about the whole talking animal thing."

The horse leaned forward to grab some hay and chew on it thoughtfully.

"Not from around these parts, eh?"

You grinned back, trying to get over the fact that you were having a conversation with a horse like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"No," another person piped up, stepping out of the shadows from further down the stables. "I don't believe she is at all."

You spun to face the speaker.

The young High King stepped into the light, half of his face in darkness. The fire glinted off of his golden hair, and the crown that rested on the top of his brow. His lapis lazuli eyes were locked on yours, and his pink lips were twisted in a slight frown. 

"Peter," you greeted awkwardly.

"Hello," he answered, saying your name softly.

He motioned for you to follow him deeper into the stables, and so you did. You wondered how he could contain it all, the emotions he must be feeling. He must have been worried about his sister, angry at you for disobeying him, and stressed to the max by all the pressure on him. None of it showed at all, however. He strode in-front of you, looking as sure and poised as he had the very first time you'd laid eyes on him earlier that night, overlooking the sea. Eventually, he came to a stop, and you stepped up beside him. Examining him from the corner of your eye, you didn't notice what was before you until it tossed it's head.

A stunning white unicorn was standing at the end of the stables, it's coat almost glowing in the darkness. A shimmering horn sat on top of it's head, and it sparkled in the torchlight. Without uttering a word, Peter stepped forward and plucked a tool up off the wooden table beside the creature. The unicorn lifted one dainty hoof, and carefully placed it in Peter's hand. Peter then began to use the tool to clear the mud out from within the hoof. You watched in silence as he prepared the creature, unsure of the correct thing to do.

In the end you decided that it would be best just to wait for him to speak first.

You did not have to wait long.

"We're riding out in the morning," he informed you.

His voice was startlingly loud in the quiet of the stables.

He continued before you could speak. "Orieus sent scouts after Susan's abductors, we know what direction they're headed in. I'll take a squadron and follow as soon as I can this morning."

"Okay," you nodded slowly, scuffing the hay underfoot with your shoe.

He was hoisting the saddle up onto the creature's back when he turned to look at you. You could see the slight crinkling around his eyes that gave it away.

"You're wondering why I'm telling you all this?" It wasn't a question.

"Just a little," you confessed.

"I know you did something to the guard by the door," he told you, not seeming angry at all. "At first I thought that you might have just found some way to sneak out, but my brother, Edmund, saw you talking to the guard, and him allowing you to pass. The guard, however, had no memory of the event. He is a trustworthy being, he would not lie to me. So, what did you do to him?"

 You scratched your head nervously. "That... That's going to take some explaining."

"Well, you have four hours until I leave," he raised an eyebrow at you encouragingly.

"Okay. Yeah. I guess that that's enough time," you feigned a grin.

"So, start."

 "Well..." You trailed off nervously, "You were right. I'm not from around here. At all."

"So, where are you from?"

You took a deep breath. "I'm actually from your world."

A look of complete shock crossed his face.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Earth. Though, and this is the part that's going to get confusing. I'm not from your time. I'm from a time in the future, if you want specifics, it's the twenty-first century. I know, I know, it sounds crazy. Being honest, I thought I was crazy when it all first happened. I was nearly positive that I was sitting in some insane asylum somewhere, imagining the whole thing while drooling in a corner. But I wasn't. I was pulled out of my world and into this one by a talking lion who called himself Aslan, and he started to tell me that he had a plan for me. He said I had a good soul, a brave one. The one he needed to do his work."

"And what work was this?"

"Coming here," you answered. "He said... He said that after that whole thing with the White Witch, and the hundred year winter, some creatures had lost faith in him, since he had been absent for so long. Even after he came back to help you all defeat her, there are still many who doubt him, thinking the next time that there is trouble he will not return to help for another century. He does not wish them to feel like this, but he can't come back himself right now. There are... Other matters that are taking up his time. That's why I'm here, to act almost as a spiritual guide in his place. I have been granted special powers, such as the one I used to influence your guard to allow me to pass. He wants you to announce my presence to your kingdom, to give me a place at your court and counsel so that his voice can be heard. I'm to claimed as his heir, and allowed to speak to your people. His High priestess."

The High King had put down the horse brush, and was now standing with his back facing the unicorn, keeping his expression carefully neutral. You folded your arms and watched him for any sign of anger or disbelief. It would not go down well if he thought you were lying.

"Do you have any proof that what you say is true?" he asked softly.

You bit your lip, nodded slightly and went to move closer. He stiffened a little, still slightly wary, and so you halted. You raised your eyes to him, silently reassuring him that it was okay. He breathed out deeply, and then raised one hand to beckon you closer. You stepped forward until you stood right in-front of him, head tilted upwards so that you could meet his eyes. He was around a head taller than you. Slowly, you reached up touch his forehead lightly.

"This won't harm you," you promised him softly, and closed your eyes, aware that they were already starting to glow golden.

Willing your memories into his mind, you showed him everything. Seeing that light in your closet, going to investigate what it was, and then finding yourself standing on a white, sandy beach with an enormous golden lion in-front of you. You let him feel your fear, confusion, all of your worries of insanity. The images continued on, Aslan lecturing you, teaching you, the discovery of your abilities, and finally him telling you to go to Narnia, and of the mission you would perform there. When it finally ended, you sighed and removed your hand, edging back from the king.

He examined you as you moved, his blue eyes narrowed.

"You could have shown me illusions, made that up," he pointed out quietly. "But I believe you."

"Thank you," your head bowed. You felt kind of confused by the trust he was placing in you after knowing you for such a short amount of time.

"You'd best get ready, then," he informed you, turning back to the unicorn. "I'll have a horse ready for you by the time that you're prepared."

"Prepared for what?" your brow wrinkled as you stared at him quizzically.

He twisted to look at you firmly from over his shoulder.

"You have abilities," he stated quietly. "They might be needed to help get the Queen back. I don't like to do this, but I don't feel like you'll be in too much danger. I want you to come with me."

A flare of indignation shot through you. "Don't I get a say in this!?" you demanded.

"Of course you do!" he laughed. "But I already know the answer. You've been sworn to help the Narnian people, that includes their royal family. And I also know you won't refuse, as Aslan would not have chosen you to come to us if you were a coward."

You went to reply, but then stopped. He was right. You were scared, you didn't want to go, but you would. You probably would have gone with him regardless of whether or not you had his permission to.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, and he smiled crookedly at you.

"Go get packed and ready," he repeated. "We leave at first light."


	3. "Are you ready?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pops on shades, cranks up Eminem's 'Without Me.'*  
> Guess who's back, back again, irishgirl321 is back, tell a friend. Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back... Okay, you get the message. Hi there, it's, um, me again.  
> I've updated two fics in one day. It feels... Good. I know my absence has been prolonged. Life and personal things get in the way as they always do. Private stuff, yanno? I'm going to try update soon enough, not often (because I know I can't and saying I can would just be lying to you) but soon. I'm in my final year in uni so assignments are keeping me busy.  
> To me it really doesn't feel like that long since I updated the fic, time flashes by, but in terms of years it has been a looooong while. As you probably know. I'm really sorry, guys, I truly am.

You were given a horse, an instructed to pack lightly. The horse had to be able to move, as the purpose of the regiment was to ride as fast and as far as they could with as little stops as possible. Anything too heavy you only slow the entire troop down. They couldn't afford that, not when they didn't know what would happen to the Queen when the enemy reached their destination. The whole situation was just completely nerve-wracking for you. You had taking horse-riding lessons back on Earth when you were in your early teens, but you had never taken lessons in hunting down Queen-nappers. 

You were currently saddling up your horse, a tall and proud black gelding. He was a gorgeous looking creature, though difficult to make conversation with. Mostly because he was one of the few that couldn't actually talk. Still, this didn't stop you from talking to him yourself as you strapped your bags to each of his sides.

"I brought toilet paper," you informed him. "I don't like camping because you've got to do your business in the bushes. That's why I never go camping, but now that I kinda have too I don't wanna be wiping myself with leaves. What if I pick up poison ivy or something by mistake? That would be really painful and I probably wouldn't be able to continue in all honesty. I'm not a girly-girl but I do like my comfor-."

A loud laugh behind you cut you off. You turned around to see the younger King, Edmund, leaning against the door-frame behind you. He was watching you with amusement in his dark eyes. He and the missing Queen really did look alike. 

"I think you babble almost as much as my sister Lucy," he commented and you could tell by his jokey tone that he didn't actually mean any offence. 

"Oh, your Highness," you dipped into a curtsy, aware that it probably looked ridiculous in riding breeches. "Nervous word vomit," you explained somewhat awkwardly. "Everything that comes into my brain comes out. You should see me during exam season. Uni has really done me a number."

His eyes brightened with curiousity. "You attend university?"

"I did, Your Grace," you shrugged. "Before... All this. It's been years, I'd probably be considered a drop-out at this rate."

"What did you study?"

You told him. 

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed and you thanked him shyly. He seemed really excited over the prospect that you attended university. It was kind of endearing. "In our time, not many woman go to university."

From that comment you figured Peter had filled him in on the situations.

"Who won the war?" he asked you suddenly.

"Which one?" 

"World War Two."

You debated not telling him. All those sci-fi movies and shows said telling someone things from the future would upset the balance. Then again, it wasn't like you were even in the same world as the war at the moment. Deciding it didn't actually matter that much, and not being able to say no to the doe-eyes directed at you, you caved and told him. "The Allies won. The war ended in 1945. Hitler committed suicide in a bunker when it became obvious he was losing."

King Edmund's eyes shone with delight. You were glad you told him. 

"So you're a priestess, huh? The high priestess?"

"Probably the best way to say it," you squirmed a bit uncomfortably. "'Designated Messiah' sounds a bit pretentious. 'Recruited prophet' just sounds silly."

"What is it like? Doing what you do?"

"I haven't done too much priestess-ing yet, I'll tell you when I have a better idea," you smiled at him. "What's it like being a king?"

"Peter is the more important one," he shrugged. "That doesn't bother me though. It might have, once, but it doesn't now. I get to have fun, he has to deal with a lot more of the serious stuff. I have more freedom for myself."

"Freedom sounds nice," you agreed wistfully.

The young king gave you a strange look, but that vanished as another thought popped into his head. "I heard you can do magic."

"Yes..." you said with trepidation.

"Will you show me something?"

"Um... I don't know..." you really didn't want to be treated like a freak.

"Doesn't have to be anything big," he encouraged. "Just a little parlour trick, I wish to see what we have on our side."

You could hardly refuse a king, and you found to yourself that you liked the young man standing in-front of you. He was certainly curious about you, and less uptight than his brother. Once again, you could feel yourself relenting under those brown doe eyes. "One trick," you heard yourself agreeing as you outstretched your arm in-front of him. Rolling up your sleeve, you took a deep breath and concentrated. The familiar tingling ran through your body.

Edmund glanced up at your face and inhaled sharply. The gold eyes seemed something they all got caught up over. Heat gathered in your palm, and floating above it a shimmering sphere of light formed. It illuminated the shadows in the still-dark stables and allowed you to see Edmund's face more clearly. His eyes were wide with shock and wonder, and for once you didn't feel like a freak upon showing someone what you could do. The ball of light grew in strength until it was so bright the King threw a hand over his eyes. You let it dull, and then fade away. Noticing the darkness, the lowered his arm. You could still make out his face in the torchlight, and faint light coming in from the door showed that dawn was indeed on it's way. 

"That was incredible," he whispered at you.

You blushed a bit. "I'm glad you liked it," you confessed. "Most people usually shy away. I'm not really used to it either, if I'm honest."

"You should be. It's amazing," he said earnestly. "I love to have power like that."

"Well... Thank you..."

The two of you smiled at each-other for a few minutes, before King Edmund's grin faded away and he became a monarch once more. 

"You should get back to preparing," he said quietly. "We leave soon to find my sister." 

You could read the guilt on his face and wanted to provide comfort, but you didn't know him. And it wasn't your place. And he might not want you to. All these reasons and it still didn't stop you from reaching out and hugging him. He stiffened in surprise. You noted he wasn't as tall as his brother, but he was still taller than you. After a second you realised what you had just done and how inappropriate it was. You tried to draw back but at that moment his arms went around you and he hugged you back. His chin rested on your head.

"Thank you," he whispered into your ear. "I... I think I needed that."

You smiled against his shoulder, and then stepped back. "I am sorry if I crossed boundaries, Your Majesty," you were back to propriety once more. "You just seemed so sad."

"It was appreciated. Sometimes it can be awfully lonely to be a King. Never really proper friends with anyone. Propriety always standing in the way. And some people are just... Still wary of me," he scuffed his shoes across the ground and your heart lurched for him.

"You were a child," you reminded him softly.

He gave you a bitter smile. "That's still no excuse to some people. I'm not even sure I believe it myself."

"There's no point dwelling upon the past. You can't change it. However, you can control your actions now and in the future. You are a different person now. Believe in yourself first and have conviction in that. Everyone else will follow suit eventually, and those who don't are idiots."

He chuckled at that and gave you an approving smile. "I can see why he chose you. Aslan."

"You're very kind, King Edmund."

He hesitated for a second, and then said. "Call me Ed."

You beamed at him, happy to have made a new friend. "Then you shall call me _____. Deal?"

"Deal," he nodded.

A voice from outside interrupted your bonding moment. 

"______?" Peter ducked into the stables. 

His eyes found you and Edmund standing close together, and he started. A frown knitted his brows together. Edmund took a step back and put his hands in his pockets.

"What's up, Pete?" he asked. 

"Are you ready? We're going as soon as everyone is," the High King's voice had a note of coldness in it. 

"I'm ready," you and Edmund said at the same time.

You turned in surprise, catching his eye. The two of you laughed together in amusement. 

Peterwatched you for a second, before turning to stride away. "Mount up and meet in the courtyard."

The smile on your face died as he disappeared from sight.

_Jeez, who spit in his Cheerios? Oh... Wait. His sister had been kidnapped. Yup. No Cheerio spit necessary._

Edmund noticed the look on your face. "Oh, don't mind him. He is as bossy as anything when he is stressed. And for once he actually has reason to be."

You shrugged, pretending that it didn't bother you and tried to change subject. "So, which horse is yours?"

Edmund raised a brow, obviously noticing your diversion. The younger Pevensie brother was sharper at reading people than the older, that was for sure. However, he did not push. 

"Well," he laughed. "He's not mine, per se. He's his own horse."

"You're damn right I am," Phillip turned his head to face you, talking through a mouthful of hay.

"Phillip and I have been together since the start," Edmund said, patting the talking horse fondly. "We've had a good run, haven't we, mate?"

"I run," Phillip grumped. "You just sit there."

You snorted, and turned away and Edmund and his horse began to bicker. You approached your own mount once again and looked him in the eyes. "Ready to go, bud?" you asked. "I'm sorry if I get heavy."

The horse nickered, which you took as a sign of encouragement to get on. Edmund had already swung up onto the saddled Phillip and was heading into the courtyard. He looked back to where you were. You waved him on without you, not wanting him to get into trouble if you held him back. However, when he left you kind of wished he had stayed. You discovered your weren't exactly tall enough to get up onto the horse. You couldn't magic your way up by flying or anything, you didn't have that kind of power. 

So you remained on the ground, leaning against the horse as you tried to use both hands to pull the stirrup down to a level that you could put your foot into. Finally you managed to stuff your toes in there. Figuring it was the best that you'd be able to do, you let go of the stirrups to try grab the saddle.

However, since your hands no longer kept the stirrups in place they swung back slightly, taking your foot with it. Your other foot lost it's balance on the ground, and you fell, realising in a split second that you were probably going to knock yourself out by smacking your head on the stone floor.

However before you could fall too far, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and a hard chest stopped your body from going flying further backwards. You panted with relief, and looked back into the handsome face of Peter Pevensie. Who looked extremely grumpy and pissed off.

"I wondered what was taking you so long," he said coolly. 

"I'm trying my best here, okay?" you felt yourself getting kind of annoyed.

You were coming with him because you wanted to help. Yes, you were kind of failing to help so far, but hey, you were _trying_.

He sighed, losing a bit of tension from his face. "Would you like a hand?"

You wanted to say no. You didn't really want to be grumped at or on the receiving end of his bad mood, but the fact was you did need his help. You couldn't get onto the horse by yourself.

"If you would be so kind, _Your Highness_."

The last two words were pointed. You were deliberately not using his name as he had asked you to in-order to show that you were annoyed. It was petty, yes, but you never claimed not to be. He noticed, and his mouth tightened into a thinner line than before. Without a word, he turned your body around and boosted you up into the air. 

You got a foot into the stirrup and used it to swing yourself over the horse. Gathering the reins in your hand, you looked down at him. He had his hands resting on the horse's flank, and was looking off to your left without saying anything. You watched him, biting your lip indecisively.

Finally you spoke again. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I'm grumpy," he said suddenly, gaze snapping to meet yours. "I really do not mean to take it out on you. I am just... Scared. I told our mother I'd take care of them. So far I seem to be doing a terrible job."

You felt yourself soften at the fear, sorrow and upset on his face. "I'm sorry. I should have been more understanding. We'll find her."

Looking away from you again, he simply nodded and chewed his lip nervously. 

"It's time to go," you reminded him softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Your hand finally had him look up at your face. He looked like he was searching for something. Whatever he was searched for he must have found, as his face hardened in resolve and this time the nod he gave you was sure. He ducked past you and walked to the bottom of the stables. You heard scuffling, and then within a few seconds the white unicorn emerged from the shadows, the High King sitting on it's back. Your horse was fairly big, but they dwarfed you both. He urged the unicorn forward until he was level with you.

"Are you ready?" he asked breathlessly.

"I am," you replied. 

He nodded one final time and then kicked the unicorn into a trot. You clicked your heels and your horse obeyed, following the unicorn out into the courtyard. The sun was rising over the sea, and you couldn't help but think how beautiful it was. You had never seen anywhere like Cair Paravel. Not in all your life or in any of the worlds you had been to. However, you didn't have time to appreciate it. You had other matters to attend. 

All the troops on the expedition were waiting in the centre of the courtyard. The mostly consisted of centaurs and satyrs, but a few human men on top of horses too. Looking at their uniforms you recognised them as troops from Archenland. There was only six of them. Four appeared to be guards. One you recognised as the young man who had been with Susan when she was taken. He had a bandage on his head but looked alert. He gave you a nod when you pulled up. An older man stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. 

You cast out your mind and let it brush against his. He was the young man's father. You looked for any ill intentions in their minds, but found none. The young man actually liked Susan, and his father would happily see him married to the Narnian queen. That was why they were helping. You couldn't push much further into their minds without physical contact, but you were sure in your abilities and your gut told you they only meant to help.

"We will ride for as long as it takes," Peter's voice rang out strongly. "Ride as fast as we can for two and a half hours at a time, with thirty minute breaks in between to tend to ourselves. We will ride until midnight where we will get four hours rest and then take off again. If we intercept them we secure the queen above all. Getting her back is our primary goal. And once we succeed in that, take them down but I want two alive for questioning. You know yourselves, preferably a commanding officer but if that is not an option so be it."

He turned and motioned to his brother broke ahead from the small regiment and fell into place on his right hand side. After a second's hesitation, he beckoned you up onto his left. Those around you gave startled looks and you felt a bit shocked too, but you trotted forward as bidden. 

"You are the High Priestess of the Lion. It is only right you are shown to have a position of respect," he told you softly before twisting back once more. "Orieus, tracking! Lead us!"

The centaur moved in-front of you, Peter and Edmund and began to move. Urging your horse forward, the party set off after him. The squadron trotted until the portcullis was reached, and from there Orieus kicked into a gallop. You followed suit, heading away from the beach and into the forest. 

The wind whipped around you and you were glad you tied your hair up. The horse underneath you nickered once more, this time happily. He pulled slightly ahead of the two kings, and before you could stop yourself you let out a loud whoop, followed by a laugh. 

The two Pevensie men looked at you. Edmund was openly laughing. You seemed to be able to put him in a good mood no matter what the scenario was. Peter's expression was more unreadable. He should be focusing on his sister, but right now he was thinking about the way your eyes gleamed as you shot through the trees, his own eyes flashing with the countless emotions whirling around inside of him. 

You turned and caught his gaze. Your face was flushed with adrenaline. 

He let out a commanding yell, and his unicorn slowly pulled in-front of yours. You kicked your legs around the flank of your own horse who increased his pace even more. 

Edmund must have tried to join in as you distinctly heard Phillip go "if you squeeze your legs one more time I'm going to run into as many low lying branches as I can find."

Orieus was still ahead, but you and Peter were hot on his (literal) tail. The others behind struggled to keep pace as you and the High King raced each-other. You let out another joyous cry, and Peter let himself shout in exhilaration. He was doing what he saw you doing, channeling all worry and fear into a burning desire to keep moving. To give him focus. 

Soon enough, however, you had to slow. The others could not keep up. You drew to a half, both panting slightly as your companions reached you once more. You grinned at him, sweating slightly, and he found himself smiling back.

Orieus waited up ahead at a fork in the path, pointing at the one to his left. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for mistakes. I usually don't find them until way later. Hope you guys have a good night ^.^


	4. “Paladin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It me. I haven't given up on this story, and I have a chapter by chapter outline written of how I want it to go. Whether I get to writing it is a different thing. But I shall try!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks. (Almost 50 subscriptions? I didn't know there were THAT many Peter Pevensie fans out there. This is great!)

**CHAPTER FOUR**

When you slid out of the saddle at the end of the day, your entire body was aching. The initial allure had worn off after a few hard hours of ‘stop and go,’ and now you could not wait to rest. The constant rhythm had caused some chafing in your legs, and you seriously needed a break. You weren’t exactly sure if you would actually be able to continue at this pace for too long, but decided to keep quiet until it really became an issue.

To be perfectly honest, you probably should have been left behind. You had no experience with this, you weren’t used to this kind of discomfort, and while your abilities were useful in some regards, they were not particularly battle-inclined. Even though you acknowledged that as being true, you knew that even if you had known previously what this would be like that you still would have been stubborn enough to carry on.

You leaned heavily against your horse’s sweaty flank, trying to stretch out some of your aching muscles. You were pretty sure that you would need a serious deep tissue massage to get rid of these knots. However, there was probably no masseuse in the immediate area for sure, let alone the whole land. So you would just have to endure.

_Sigh._

“Fandrel, Yaran, pitch the High Priestesses’ tent,” Peter’s voice rang out sternly.

He was standing firm and strong before you, barking out commands in all directions. There was a definite air of authority around him, and men rushed to do his bidding. He caught your eyes briefly and gave you a small smile and a wink before turning his attention back to issuing commands. It was nearing nightfall, and so tents had to be put up, fires had to be lit, and guard positions had to be approved. He didn’t seem tired, however, although anxiety sat visibly upon his brow like a crown.

“Yes, Your Grace,” two satyrs answered him in unison, bounding to their feet.

 _Thank God._ You were literally ready to collapse on the spot. You felt a bit bad that others had to set up your accommodation, but you had no idea how to do it yourself, and you were completely exhausted. _Tomorrow,_ you promised yourself, _tomorrow I’ll learn._

Everyone else had kept up remarkably well. The centaurs showed no signs of strain, while the men from Archenland were only lightly sweating. They were smiling and laughing, standing around in a circle together. One rider had been knocked from his horse by a low-lying branch, and so was now the butt of many a joke in the small group.

No one else was keeled over like you were. In your defense, they were probably used to this and had past experience with some similar expeditions.

A hand tapped you on the shoulder, and you twisted around to see the smiling face of the younger King staring down at you. He was still sitting astride Phillip, not having dismounted just yet. His face was half shrouded in darkness. Night was falling rather swiftly.

“Here,” he said, offering you his waterskin. “Yours is empty, you need to learn to moderate it a bit more.”

You scowled slightly at him, in too much of a bad mood to realise he was offering friendly advice and not trying to berate you. He just shook his head at your dark expression, smothering a smile. He did not seem to take it personally. However, you took the waterskin out of his hands and took a long swig, enjoying the cool water. You sloshed the liquid around in your mouth, getting rid of the  horrible parched sensation before finally swallowing. You took another greedy gulp, unable to stop yourself.

“There’s a river nearby,” he said, “give me yours. I’m going to fill mine up. I’ll fill yours too.”

That got a small grin of thanks from you as you regarded him, finally acknowledging that he was being friendly. You untied your own one from the saddle bags, and passed it to him. He took it carefully, then twisted and smartly kicked his heels against the horse's flank to get Phillip to head for the river.

“Nu-uh,” the horse responded, much to your amusement. “I’ve done my bit. You can walk. _Lazy_.”

Despite yourself, you snorted with laughter as Edmund shook his head in exasperation, but knew better than to argue. Catching your eyes, he rolled his own before disentangling his feet from the stirrups. He slipped from the saddle, groaning slightly as he hit the ground heavily. He took a second to stretch out his legs.

“I guess I’m lucky my horse doesn’t talk,” you joked.

“Hey,” Phillip said incredulously.

Edmund shot you a surprised look, before a huge grin split his face. He began to say something, but then simply shook his head and started to walk away, a centaur broke off to accompany him. You thought about going after him and asking what he was going to say, but decided you were too tired to and that you weren’t that curious. Instead, you sank to the ground and began to massage your calves, attempting to soothe the aches and pains in your muscles.

Your name being called had you raise your head as Peter approached. His blonde hair was dishevelled and his clothes were creased but he did not appear tired at all, though he regarded you with pity. You could see a twinge of guilt in his eyes as he examined you, his gaze running up and down your body in a way that was not intrusive, but concerned. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, massaging it with his thumb gently. His earlier bad mood seemed to be mostly dissipated and he now regarded you with kindness, blue eyes intense.

“Your tent is ready,” he said softly. “Usually it would be grander, but we opted for smaller, easier to pack options as this is a mission of speed. I dearly hope you will find it comfortable anyhow.”

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “To be honest, I’m so tired I probably could sleep on a bed of nails and not even notice.”

He looked a bit shocked at your somewhat drastic analogy and how vehemently you said it, but after a few seconds a smile curved his lips upwards. Despite all going on, you were once again struck by how very handsome he was. Reaching out, he grasped hold of your horse’s reigns which you had left dangling, and passed them to a nearby satyr.

“This way,” he informed you, looping your arm through his. He began to lead you further into the encampment. “Your tent is beside mine, in between my own and the Lord of Archenland’s. There will be guards posted around the clock, so you need not worry for your safety as you sleep.”

“So… some men won’t get to sleep tonight?” you enquired.

“They are two hour long shifts, so everyone will get at least a few hours. The centaurs and satyrs simply do not need as much sleep as humans do. They’ll take it in turns, and some who do not get as much rest tonight shall have more tomorrow.”

“And me?”

“You shall get your rest. I have not included you in the rotations.”

“That seems a bit unfair,” you found yourself saying, “For me to just rest while they watch over me.”

You thought he might be offended at you for saying that, but instead he looked at you in appreciation. There was a soft look in his eyes, like he approved of your words.

“I have also put myself, Edmund, and the other men on guard duty. I am not completely unfair. Ed may be titled ‘the Just,’ but I try my best to be also.”

“Well then why not include me?”

“I… Well I figured that you would need your rest. You are not as used to this as we are.”

“I’d like to be put on the rotation, if that’s possible,” your voice was smooth and strong, despite the fact that you felt really tired.

There was amusement written on his face, mixed in with what you thought to be affection. He chuckled slightly, revealing gleaming white teeth. He reached out slowly and took your hand, guiding it to his other arm and looping it through. Tugging you slightly, he began to lead you further into the encampment towards the erected tents.

“I don’t think so. I dragged you along on this. The least that I can do is make sure that you’re kept as comfortable as possible,” his tone was firm and his eyes sincere. “I also don’t know how you’ll cope without maximum rest. This will end up being straining on the rest of us soon enough, and I cannot afford to slow pace considerably. You are already exhausted.”

You were walking towards the tents, the newly built fires casting flickering shadows across your faces.

“I can manage,” you put as much finality as you could into your voice, even though a little pang told you that this was almost certainly a lie. “Now, I can either place myself on watch unofficially, or you can do it formally and save someone else some rest. It is very much up to you, but I shall be on guard duty with or without your express permission.”

He raised his brows, looking surprised at your strong statement. Glancing towards you, he shook his head slightly. “I should have known you’d put up a fight. Would you really do that? Stay up on unofficial duty?”

“Do you want to test me?” you smiled.

“No,” he laughed. “I’ve known you for just over a day, and I’m already aware that opposing your abilities would leave me appearing quite foolish.”

“Then I expect to be soon informed of my schedule.”

“You are something else entirely,” he said appreciatively.

He stopped outside a tent, and gestured towards it. It was red and gold, a lion embroidered on either tent flap. “So this one is yours.”

A green tent was pitched to the left of yours, while another gold and red one stood on its right. It was easy to tell which belonged to the blond haired King standing beside you, and which was owned by the lord of Archenland. You stepped forward, and curiously drew back the curtain flaps.

It was relatively simple, a small structure consisting only of a bed. It was fairly low lying, so you would have to stoop while inside it. The bed was made up of blankets on the ground, and a few cushions littered around. It didn’t look super comfortable, but you weren’t going to be complaining. There were more stressing issues at hand.

“I truly am sorry for the meager state of the quarters,” Peter said ruefully. “Maybe once this is all over you can accompany us on a proper journey, one set at a leisurely pace. I swear it will be more comfortable than this.”

You smiled, reaching up with a gentle hand to rest it against his shoulder. His eyes flickered down at the contact, but swiftly returned to yours.

“It’s great,” you told him. “As I said, I am too tired to even care.”

He grinned, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Then I shall not keep you much longer. Get your rest, my lady. We have to be up and about soon.”

You nodded, immediately thinking of how little sleep you’d get with an imposing sense of dread. You rather hoped you’d catch up to Susan soon, or else you may fall from the saddle on day. You were just about to duck into the tent, when the sound of footsteps reached your ears.

A rather muddy Edmund approached you, a waterskin brandished in each hand. Catching sight of your confused look, his face twisted in a rueful grin as he rolled his eyes. He reached you, handing you the waterskin. You thanked him while Peter examined him incredulously.

“And what happened to you?” The older brother said.

“I fell. It’s very muddy beside that lake,” Edmund told you with a jovial laugh. His face suddenly became a bit more serious. “Orieus says we’re gaining ground.”

His words, while they were in themselves uplifting, darkened Peter’s expression. He and his younger brother shared a pointed look. Seeing that you didn’t understand the hidden meaning, Peter clarified. “I wonder how much ground we will lose tonight.”

 _Ah._ They were worrying about the effects of stopping. Even though they knew it was inevitable, their people needed rest, it must be torture for them to halt when they knew they were getting closer.

Your arms lifted slowly, each of your hands coming to rest in (what you hoped was) a comforting manner on the shoulder of a Pevensie brother. Edmund gave you a small grin, his brown eyes lighting up. Peter’s blue ones darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly. An agitated hand ran through his blond hair, messing it. You soothingly massaged his shoulder with your thumb.

He gave you a distracted smile and then stepped away. Your hand fell back to your side and you felt a slight pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. However, once more he lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. Without warning, he turned on his heel and strode away. You blinked, feeling a little thrown off by his sudden departure.

“He does that,” a voice beside you rang out. “He can be a tad over-dramatic.”

Your head twisted back to Edmund, and your hand resting on the crook of his arm. With an embarrassed smile at having left it to linger there for so long, you removed it. The younger brother simply arched an amused brow at you, and jerked his head towards your tent.

“Get some rest, he’ll be pushing us hard tomorrow to make up for the lost time.”

You sighed, suddenly feeling quite dirty and sweaty. However, you were too tired to deal with that right about now. Tonight, you would sleep. Tomorrow you’d find somewhere to wash.

“Goodnight, King Edmund,” you said softly.

“I’ve told you, it’s ‘Ed,’” he admonished you rather sternly, though you could see the glint in his eye.

“Alright,” you conceded with a small laugh. “Goodnight, Ed.”

“Goodnight,” he answered, and then did something unexpected.

The younger King stepped forward, his arms open. They encircled your body and pulled you into his chest. After a moment’s hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him back. His chin rested on your head, and you felt a chuckle vibrate in his chest. A few moments passed, and then he released you.

It seemed he'd liked your hug this morning enough to attempt to make it a regular occurrence.

“Goodnight,” he bidded you, one final time, and then left for his own tent on the other side of Peter’s.

You ducked into your own one, quickly changing into your linen pyjamas. It was a warm night in Narnia, and you were glad that you had packed breathable clothes as well as warmer ones. Your eyelids were already drooping closed when you lay your head on your pillow. Within moments, you were asleep.

 

***

 

Maybe it was the warmth and humidity of the night air, but when you fell asleep you dreamt of burning flame and huge golden eyes. You dreamt of heavy chains, and a terrible, aching sadness. When you awoke to a voice calling your name, there were floods of tears on your face and pillow. You wiped them from your eyes, and opened the tent to the morning sunlight. It was a slightly greyer day today, and looked like it may indeed rain.

Peter crouched in-front, his eyes concerned as he looked at you. He took in your bloodshot eyes and scraggly hair, and his expression turned from concern to sympathy and guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, averting his eyes. “I left rousing you for last. We have some food out here. You have half an hour to eat and such as they pack up your tent.”

You nodded blearily, quickly ducked back into the tent to change. A sense of sadness hung around you like  a curtain, one you were unable to shake free of. Mopping at your wet face a bit more, you took a few shuddering breaths before you actually got to changing your clothes.

You could see Peter’s shadow waiting outside for you, and when you emerged he offered you his hand. You took it, and he carefully helped you get to your feet and climb out of the tent. He gestured towards the fire, where a group sat. It was mainly a mix of men from Archenland and Narnians, two groups who did not seem to interact much. Before you could ask Peter if he was joining you, he was off to consult with Orieus and Edmund, who were pouring over a map on the makeshift table.

Feeling totally awkward regardless of the fact that  your hair was greasy enough to fry an egg on, you made your way over to the campfire. A satyr saw you coming and bounded to his feet. He grabbed a bowl and spooned some broth into it. Somewhat shyly, he handed it to you when you reached him, and then offered you some bread which you gladly took also.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “That’s very kind of you.”

He inclined his head respectfully, but did not speak.

“May I sit?” You motioned to the space on the log next to him.

His shaggy eyebrows rose in surprise, and you took a moment to appreciate how he actually had discernible eyebrows when his face was already covered in hair. Then he nodded. You grinned happily, and plonked yourself down next to him. You continued to eat, only just then realising how hungry you were.

Five minutes later you were finished. You glanced up to see a few of the men from Archenland looking at you, whispering curiously to each other. They stopped as soon as they saw you’d noticed, freezing in place.

“May I help you?” You asked politely.

For a moment none of them spoke, and then one man made to open his mouth. Another nudged him, furiously shaking his head. The almost-speaker shot him an annoyed look, and then turned to angle his body towards you. Taking a deep break, he asked a question that you did not understand.

“My lady, where is your paladin?”

“Paladin?” You repeated, brow wrinkling in confusion.

“Yes, your paladin. You’re a sorceress, correct?”

Not the word you liked, but accurate enough. “I have magical abilities, this is true.”

The soldier nodded, like this statement confirmed something. “Right, so you should have a paladin.”

“Forgive me,” you were beginning to get a bit annoyed that he wasn’t answering you. “What is a paladin?”

“You do not know? Oh, well a paladin is a creature companion of a sorcerer or sorceress. The idea is that the bond between paladin and sorcerer is what gives their magic stability and control. Magic usage can wreak havoc on the mind, the paladin eases this. The paladin also protects and guards their socerer. It is meant to be a mental connection to rival no other.”

You nodded slowly. “Like a witches’ familiar. I see.”

“I have heard it referred to in those terms,” he inclined his head. “Yes, it is usually a cat or a bat. Sometimes different animals. Once even a gryphon. It is… strange to see a magic user without one.”

“Well, I don’t have one,” you shrugged.

It was a little disappointing. You would have liked a little animal pal over here. It may have made it less lonely. Though you weren’t too sure about a frog. They were kinda slimy and gross.

“I see,” the man said politely, though his tone held a slight edge.

Suddenly, another voice rang out. “Lady _____, may I have a word?”

Peter was fast approaching, something slightly angry in his sky blue eyes. He looked every inch the King, even when lacking a crown and in a leather jerkin and linen shirt. You swiftly rose to your feet and holding your empty bowl in your hands.

“One second, I’ll just wash th-”

“Leave it,” he snapped, motioning to the man you had been talking to. “He can wash it for you.”

You started in surprise. It wasn’t like Peter to be rude to people. The man also looked shocked, but then bowed his head meekly and took your bowl from you.

“Come with me,” Peter said, taking hold of your upper arm.

Motioning to Orieus to follow, he lead you away from the encampment. He made his way through the forest, taking you somewhere.

“Where are we going?” You asked, almost tripping over a root.

“You’ll see,” he answered, and his tone was a bit softer now that it was just you and him. “Look… I don’t want to come across as rude here, but I think you should keep the lack of a paladin thing to yourself.”

“Why? It’s the truth. I don’t have one.”

“Yes, but every sorcerer and socereress is meant to have one,” he told you patiently. “The last magic user who did not have a paladin was Jadis.”

It took a moment for you to place the name. “The White Witch.”

“Yes. Though, she did in-fact have one. But she killed him. She killed her paladin because she wanted the power she shared with him for herself. Some say that’s what truly drove her insane. Without him there to temper her mind…”

Slowly, you began to understand. “So they think I may have murdered my own paladin as well?”

“I doubt they truly believe it, but these are paranoid times. And here you turn up, a stranger in these lands, just when the Queen is taken…” He trailed off.

“You don’t entertain that notion, do you?” You asked, feeling a nervous pain in your stomach.

He had only known you a day. It would be fair if he didn’t truly trust you yet. Still, the idea that he could think something like that about you hurt deeply. The idea that _anyone_ could think it hurt, but for some reason it would be worse if you knew it was him.

He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

You smiled, a happy feeling stirring inside you. Before you could do something stupid like hug him, he spoke again.

“We’re here.”

A lake stood in-front of you, crystalline water reflecting the dull grey sky above it. It looked cold and unappetizing, but the air around you was still warm. You watched a breeze cause the fronds to sway, and then looked at Peter.

“You have five minutes to bathe,” he informed you. “Orieus and I shall remain here to keep you safe, but we shall have our backs turned at all times. I promise you that. And everyone else has been told to stay away.”

Despite his formal tone, a pink blush dusted his cheeks. You debated saying no, that you were fine and could wash another time. But then you weren’t sure when you’d next have the opportunity to do so, and the grime on your skin really did make you feel disgusting. So you disentangled yourself from Peter, stepping away from him and towards the water. Orieus trotted forward and handed a towel to Peter, who then offered it to you. A sponge sat on top of it, obviously for washing your body. Once you took it and thanked them, they both strode a bit further away from the water and turned their backs.  

You deposited your towel on a large rock where the stones met the water, and shot a look back at your companions. Both had their backs turned. While Orieus seemed to be scanning the trees ahead, Peter stood ramrod straight, staring ahead. His hands were tight fists at his sides, and that made you chuckle slightly. The embarrassment was slightly endearing, not that you should be thinking about the High-King in such affectionate terminology. As you were sure they would not turn around, you began to peel off your clothes.

Knowing you had to be fast, you shrugged them off quickly and hurried into the water, sponge in hand. It was indeed cold enough to make you gasp, but you kept going. You sank into the water until you were shoulder deep, drawing in a deep breath. Then you plunged yourself fully under, letting your whole body be immersed by the still lake. For a few seconds you floated underneath, enjoying the silence. Soon, you had to surface for air.

Having no shampoo or anything to wash your hair with, you decided just to wet it a few times. It may not be ideal, but at least it wouldn’t be dirty anymore. You scrubbed your body quickly with the sponge, trying not to think about how great some body-wash would be right about now. Conscious of time, you finished up quickly enough.

Your feet sloshed as you made your way out of the water, and you saw Peter’s head jerk slightly at the sound. However, he did not turn or attempt to look. You grabbed the towel and quickly dried yourself, pulling your clothes back on as you did.

Tying up your boot laces, you spoke. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Peter slowly twisted to face you, looking uncertain. When he saw you were clothed, he smiled ruefully. A small laugh escaped him when he caught sight of your hair wrapped in a towel. It stood proudly on your head like a turban.

“Don’t let anyone from Calormen see you looking like that. They’ll think you’re mocking them.”

“I won’t,” you giggled, continuing to towel dry your hair as you headed back towards the camp.

Peter hummed to himself, seeming a bit more at ease. You were pretty sure that as soon as you returned to camp his good mood would dissipate. It always did when he was faced with his kingly duties. Not that you blamed him. You could only imagine how  stressful running a kingdom could be. Let alone running a kingdom while dealing with your sisters kidnapping.

“Was that good?” He asked.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I think I needed something like that to wake me up properly. Plus, washing was good too.”

“Ed and I took a dip earlier this morning,” he told you.

You examined the dark circles under his puffy eyes and wondered if he had slept at all. Feeling sympathetic, you reached you and took his hand in yours. He seemed surprised, his brows raising, but then a small smirk crossed his face and he let it be. The smirk reminded you of when you had met him at the party. When you had flirted with him, and he had been easy to laugh and smile. Before his sister had been abducted.

He let your hand fall from his as you approached the camp. Once again, you felt the surge of disappointment. This time, as he hadn’t strode off, he could read it on your face.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Proprietary and all that. It wouldn’t be good for either of our images if people were to assume that we were… You know… _involved._ ”

You nodded, but your smile was forced. “Of course.”

You clasped your hands in front of you as you neared the gaggle of troops. They were all mounted and ready to go. Your tent had been packed up for you, and your horse was waiting. Edmund held his reigns, sitting astride Phillip. You went over to him, and he handed you them with a cheeky smile.

“Hey guys,” he said, his voice loud. “How was the dip?”

You fought the urge to groan as Peter let out an annoyed huff of air. You didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself and the King, but you needed help to get back into the saddle. Turning, you shot Peter a pleading look. However, he did not meet your gaze. His back was already turned as he strode away, hopping up onto his white unicorn with ease. Your skin prickled with embarrassment as your shoulders sagged slightly in sadness and hurt.

A rustling noise came from behind you, and then Edmund was at your side. His brown eyes looked apologetic as two warm hands settled around your waist.

“Sorry,” he whispered in your ear as he boosted you up so you could get a foot in the stirrups.

You swung yourself into the saddle, and smiled gently back down at him in thanks. When you raised your gaze, the elder Pevensie was staring at you with remorse and irritation mixed on his face. _Jeez, the guy was giving you whiplash from all these mood-swings._

“Ready to go?” He asked, and a shout of agreement answered him.

Edmund touched your elbow, and inclined his head forward. Together, you pulled apart from the rest until you flanked Peter. Edmund was on his right, you on his left. You didn’t look at the man beside you, slightly hurt and confused by his behaviour. Instead, you twiddled the reigns nervously between your fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the concept of "paladins" in not the Narnia universe, just my own addition. I got the idea from the 'Avalon: Web of Magic' book series I read as a kid, and I've always loved the idea of mages and animal companions. As this is my guilty pleasure fic I have included it!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! Comments brighten my day and encourage me to keep this up so if you wanna leave one please do!


	5. “Then a fool I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii!  
> Here's some more Peter for ya! Thanks for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions! You are all so great!

**CHAPTER FIVE**

“I’m sorry,” his voice rang out, startling you out of your day-dream.

You looked away from the fire and at him. He was standing on the other side of the flames, blue eyes boring into yours. He seemed even more tired than before, if that was possible. It was the fourth day of the expedition, and judging by the looks of him he still hadn’t slept. His entire being radiated anxiety, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

You were on watch duty tonight, along with Orieus. The centaur was patrolling around the camp, and you were sitting further back, watching the tree line. One of your many goddess-given talents was an almost cat-like ability to see in the dark, and so you were able to hang back and simply look around.

“I was moody and I snapped,” he continued. “It wasn’t right.”

You found yourself shrugging with fake nonchalance, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “It’s alright. You didn’t want them to think we were together. I get that.”

He sighed, moving closer and sitting opposite you. “Don’t say it like that. You’re twisting my meaning. It’s nothing against you. I already told you, back at the ball, that I find you beautiful. And I find your company interesting and entertaining. It’s just that as a King, I may one day need to marry a Queen. For alliances, for my kingdom.”

A rueful smile, somewhat tinged in sadness, crossed your face. “And I am the High Priestess. We need to keep our roles separate.”

He nodded. “We can be friends. They need to see us being friends. But we cannot be seen to be more than that. It would damage your reputation also. I will speak frankly here. Some may think that I myself elevated you to such a position so that we could be together, meaning you are not truly here on Aslan’s behalf and so your message will not be heard. You would fail your purpose. Or else some, those who know you as a sorceress…” He trailed off, but you could hear the unspoken words. _Without a paladin._ “Some may think you used magic to influence me to elevate you to such a status. We cannot give them cause for suspicion.”

You agreed, ignoring the sad pit in your stomach at his words. It wasn’t like you were planning to freaking marry the guy or something, you’d only known him such a short time. But being told ‘no’ was never nice. Your eyes were so fixed on the fire in-front of you, you missed the hunched shoulders and the way that his mouth twisted downwards in a grimace. His hands twisted together nervously as silence filled the air.

Eventually, you let out a short, barking laugh. His head snapped up, his eyes focusing on your face. You regarded him rather warmly.

“Well,” you smiled. “I guess you’re stuck being my friend. I’m sure it’ll be a terrible experience for you.”

He laughed, feeling relieved that you had taken all of that so well. You saw him shudder as a gust of wind blew suddenly. It ruffled his golden hair, and you dragged your gaze away from it. His hands rubbed his arms, trying to warm them.

“Go back to bed,” you told him kindly. “You’re just going to burn yourself out or make yourself sick.”

“I can’t sleep,” he shook his head. “I know what I just said… But do you mind if I stay out here with you? I always feel… better… when I’m around you.”

You weren’t sure if it’s the sleep deprivation or the mood-swings that had him admitting that. Maybe even both. Instead of responding, you inclined your head in agreement. He hunched slightly, drawing his knees to his chest. Small shivers ran through his body, and you watched him with concern.

For a moment, you stayed silent before you then asked, “do you want some blanket?”

He sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I don’t think that would look like we were just friends.”

“Oh, come on,” you rolled your eyes. “No one else is up to see. Or you can go get your own if you want. There’s just no point in you sitting here and shivering.”

He hesitated, before quietly telling you, “I gave mine to Ed.”

Edmund had come down quite sick with a cold yesterday. It had slowed the regiment considerably, and while you appreciated the extra two hours sleep you now had a night, you could see the effect it had on Peter’s already high stress levels. He had had to choose one sibling’s wellbeing over another, and he could not lose his brother while his sister was already slipping from his fingers. Your heart softened when he told you what he had done for his brother.

You lifted an arm, raising the blanket with you, and simply said, “come here.”

For a moment it seemed like he might disobey. That he might refuse and  resolutely stay shuddering across from you. After a moment’s hesitation, he got to his feet and made his way unsteadily towards you. He sat down next to you heavily, joining you in leaning against the log behind you both. You moved some blanket around his shoulders, and after a moment’s hesitation you slid an arm around his waist. You scooted closer, snuggling a bit into his chest.

“We shouldn’t-” he tried to refuse, but your glare shut him up.

“Peter, I’ll be frank,” you repeated his words from minutes earlier. “You look like crap, and you smell even worse. I have no interest in trying anything. I am simply trying to warm you up so I don’t end up with two sick Kings and a squadron of cranky, leaderless men. Can you let me do that?”

He considered it for a moment, and then you felt his chest vibrate against your back. It took a few moments for you to realise that he was laughing softly.

“Yes, my lady,” he said in a soft, tired voice. “I’ll let you do that.”

You grinned, and leaned across his body to take hold of his hand. His fingers were cold, so you gently massaged yours against them, letting some of your warmth rub off on him. Even in the chilly night air, the fire kept you warm. You could feel its heat all over your skin, never too much, never uncomfortable. 

Fire had always been a source of comfort for you, reminding you of winter days on Earth spent snuggled up in-front of Netflix. _God, you freaking missed Netflix..._ You continued to rub Peter’s hand in yours, absentmindedly staring at the flickering orange and red flames.

Minutes later, the sound of snoring registered. Peter’s chest buzzed under you, and you stiffened a little. You hardly dared to hope… You looked up slowly, and almost gaped in surprise and delight. The High King was finally asleep. His head was lolling down against his chest, a small bit of drool spilling onto his chin. You giggled, but didn’t move. You knew from the looks of him that he had not slept in days, and so you were not going to risk waking him up now.

Instead, you simply stayed put, eyes scanning the trees. Lost in thought, you wondered to yourself whether or not the night-vision came with a kind of reflective sheen in your eyes, like cats and dogs had. You kind of wanted to know, but you also didn’t want to freak people out by asking them to check. The fire crackled, reassuring and comforting in the windy night. Orieus’s hooves continued their steady pace as he trotted around the camp, never faulting or hesitating. His energy seemed to be limitless, something you envied.

The sound of him grew closer, and you looked past the flames to see him approaching. His eyes landed on you, and shrewdly took in the sight of the sleeping High King you were half-resting on. You shifted away from Peter ever so slightly, feeling awkward under the centaur’s piercing gaze. The general just stared at you.

“I don’t want to wake him,” your voice was merely a hushed whisper of an explanation. “I don’t think he’s slept at all.”

The centaur paused for a few moments, and then nodded.

“He has not,” he rumbled. “Stay where you are, my lady. I hold the King’s counsel for many matters.”

You inclined your head. His meaning was clear. No word of the fire-light snuggle would pass Orieus’s lips. Neither of you had anything to fear from the loyal centaur. He turned, meaning to stride away from you and resume patrolling the camp. However, after a few paces he stopped, speaking to you over his shoulder. His face was in shadow, so you could not see his expression.

“He finds comfort in you. There is no shame in that.”

Taken by surprise and not knowing what to say, you simply nodded dumbly. When the centaur left this time he did not turn back. You settled back into Peter, gazing at his pale face. You hoped that the few hours of rest he got would rejuvenate him slightly. 

In an hour or so, someone would come to relieve you from your position. Yourself and Orieus had taken the first watch of the night. You couldn’t fall asleep before that because 1). it would look bad for you to be napping when you were meant to be on watch, and 2). if you fell asleep, you and Peter would undoubtedly be caught in this somewhat questionable position.

Resolving to stay as you were for another hour, you pinched yourself. The pain helped wake you slightly, and you rubbed sleep out of bleary eyes. You gazed at the mountain peaks in the distance, barely visible in the night-time sky. The mountain range was the last bit of Narnia before Archenland, and they were the physical manifestation of the border. That had seemed to be where you were headed, according to Orieus’s readings of the tracks.

The closer you got to Archenland, the more tense the Narnians and Archenlandians had seemed around each other. While you didn’t think the men from the neighbouring land were to blame, you couldn’t put that suspicion to rest completely. As you stared at the mountains, wondering what you would find when you got there, a strange silence settled over the camp.

You looked around nervously. You could no longer near Orieus, no longer feel the breeze. You could see the wind stir the grass and the trees, but couldn’t hear it rustling or even feel a trace of a gust on your skin. All you could hear was the slow, intense crackling of the fire. It was unsettling. Slowly, you rose to your feet. Your hands were balled into fists at your side, ready to shout the alarm.

Some feeling had you gazing into the trees, and further, towards the mountains in the distance. You stared, and you could feel the blood pumping through your veins as you did. A strange sensation settled over you, one that made you forget everything.

You forgot the camp, forgot the fire, and even forgot the sleeping High King beside you.

Something called you into the woods, a pull you could not ignore.

You couldn’t think properly, couldn’t feel anything except the knowledge that you needed to go, needed to find what was calling to you. Entranced, unaware of what you were doing, you put one foot in-front of the other, and headed into the trees.

 

***

 

“Sire, we’re here for watch duty,” a gentle hand shook Peter’s shoulder, causing him to blink blearily and look up.

A man from Archenland stood in-front of him. His eyes fixed concernedly on the High King’s face, and Peter knew that he still must look awful. Suddenly Peter realised that he must have fallen asleep, and you had been snuggled next to him. Throwing his eyes sideways, he noticed that you were not there. Instead, the blanket just trailed on the ground next to him, missing a body. He looked back up at the man in-front of him, and noticed that no one else was around. You were not there.

“Did the High Priestess return to her tent?” He rasped, feeling a bit hurt that you had just left him.

The man shook his head. “Maybe earlier, but she was not out here when I came.”

Peter stiffened, his fingers freezing in motion. It seemed rather uncharacteristic of you to just decide you didn’t want to be on watch and return to your tent without a word. And if you had… Well, that wasn’t agreeable either. Maybe you had decided to patrol the camp?

At that moment, Orieus trotted up towards the fire. Peter struggled to his feet, blanket slipping from him. It swished softly as it fell in a puddle on the ground.

“General, is the High Priestess with you?”

Orieus hesitated, and then shook his head. “No. Last I saw of her, she was by the fire with you.”

Peter swallowed, suddenly feeling dread building up in his stomach. “Would you mind circling the camp to see if you can find her? I will go and check her tent.”

He doubted you were there, but still… Not wanting to appear panicked, he made his way towards your tent as quickly as he could without outright running. He could hear Orieus calling you as he went around the small clearing. He reached the tent. Peter cleared his throat, and then also called your name. He paused, listening for an answer, even the rustling of blankets. Nothing came.

He stuck his head into the tent. _Empty._

“My King,” Orieus cantered back into the camp, “she’s not out there.”

_No._

“Gods,” Peter whispered, hands flying to his mouth.

Had you been taken? Had you been snatched metres from him, and he simply had slept through it? Guilt flooded him. He’d brought you on this trip. He’d taken you out here. And if something terrible happened to you, then it was on him. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself.

Luckily, Orieus spoke again. “There’s tracks leading out of the camp. One set of tracks. Human. A lighter thread, so possibly female. No signs of a struggle.”

Peter didn’t understand why you would wander off of your own free will, but he was thankful that there was no indicator that you had been taken.

“Get my steed,” he snapped at the man from Archenland, not caring that he was not in-fact his subject.

The man didn’t argue, just nodded and took off. Peter turned to Orieus, staring into the centaur’s dark eyes.

“Can you track her?”

His general nodded. “Of course, my liege.”

The man from Archenland raced back, leading the unicorn. It almost seemed to shimmer in the night-time, a soft ethereal glow coming off it’s dazzling white coat. She stopped in-front of Peter, looking at him with kind and worried eyes. He rubbed her nose, and then swung himself up into the saddle.

“Rouse the other men,” he snapped at the man from Archenland. “Check the woods around camp. I want someone guarding King Edmund at all times.”

“Yes, King Peter.”

“Orieus!” The young man shouted. “Lead the way.”

The centaur took off, Peter following in his wake. He vaulted over a fallen log, racing after his general into the darkness. Trees and branches whipped past him, some scratching his face. He shook them off, not caring. First Susan, now his High Priestess. Someone was declaring war on Narnia, and Peter would be damned before he let either of you be lost to it.

Hooves thundered along the forest floor, the moonlight flashing through the trees. Orieus still ploughed on, eyes on the path in-front of him. He saw and followed tracks before Peter even registered them. They were moving in a relatively straight line, heading for the mountain range and Storminess Head, the highest peak in the collection. The unicorn nickered under him, vaulting a small stream.

Peter urged her on.

“She’s on foot,” Orieus shouted. His voice was almost lost by the roar of the wind in their ears. “Still only one set of tracks.”

“What’s she doing so far out here?!” Peter yelled.

He had no idea what possessed you to come out here on your own.

Orieus suddenly rounded on him, his abrupt halt stopping Peter’s unicorn dead in her tracks.

“What if she’s a traitor?” The centaur’s eyes blazed. “Think about it. Queen Susan was taken right after she got here. And now she goes wandering off as we’re catching up on our enemies?”

Peter swallowed. For a moment, a mere second, he entertained the notion that _maybe_ … But then he shook his head.

“No,” his voice was strong. “Not her.”

A muscle in Orieus’s jaw tensed, a sign of annoyance. “With all due respect, sire. It would be foolish not to consider the possibility.”

“Then a fool I am,” Peter snapped. “Enough, General. Find her.”

Swallowing his agitation, the centaur took off again. Peter kicked his heels, and the unicorn swiftly followed in the centaur’s wake. Tension filled the air between the King and his confidant, both at the situation and at each other.

Suddenly, Orieus stopped. The unexpected halt had Peter’s unicorn rear in shock, letting out a loud scream of surprise. Her hooves hit the ground, and Peter managed to get a look at what the centaur was staring at.

You stood amongst the trees, bathed in moonlight. You were slowly walking further into the forest. Your arms dangled at your sides, hands trailing through the tall grass. Peter couldn’t see your face, but he knew with certainty that it was you.

Hurriedly dismounting his horse, he slid out of the saddle. Orieus’s hooves pawed the ground nervously. Peter skirted around him, slowly approaching you. You weren’t walking very fast, more of a leisurely, stumbling pace. He managed to catch up with you on foot quickly enough.

“______,” he called your name, but you didn’t stop.

You didn’t even seem to hear him, which was unnerving enough. He called to you again, this time managing to slide his form in-front of you. Catching sight of your face, confusion twisted his stomach. Your face was drenched in tears, your eyes blotchy and red. They were set on an unseen path before you. Peter grabbed hold of your shoulders, shaking you softly.

“______,” he said again, quieter this time.

Slowly, your eyes came to rest on his face. You swallowed heavily as a few more tears leaked from your eyes.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked softly, hands gripping you tightly.

Your mouth opened, and for a moment you seemed to struggle to find words. Eventually, you said.

“He’s so sad. He’s sad and alone and in pain. I have to help him. I have to go to him.”

Your entire face was twisted in anguish, and a sob wracked your body. Soothingly, Peter pulled you into his chest.

“Who?” He asked desperately, fear coursing through his veins. “Who do you need to go to?”

“I… I don’t know,” you trailed off. “I need to go to him.”

You tried to take another step, but Peter restrained you.

“My Lord,” Orieus stepped forward. “She’s in a trance.”

“How do we wake her?” Peter hissed, yanking you back to his side as you desperately struggled to pull your arms free of his grip.

“Here!” The centaur exclaimed.

He grabbed the waterskin tied to Peter’s saddle, and raced towards you. Skidding to a halt just before you, he rapped the cap off it and squirted it forcefully into your face. It must have caught you off-guard, because you seemed to swallow some the wrong way. Immediately, you stopped fighting Peter, coughing and spluttering. You bent over, and the young King pounded your back with a closed fist. Your hands were at your throat as you hacked and rasped. After a few moments, the coughing fit subsided.

You straightened up slowly, your hand massaging your throat. Your eyes were no longer unfocused, instead startled and somewhat irritated.

“Why did you do that?!” You demanded, crossing your arms. Then, you caught sight of your surroundings, and wheeled around, gaping in horror. “Where are we?!”

“About an hour’s walk from camp,” the centaur said sternly. “You were in some kind of trance.”

“I… What?” You trailed off, desperately swinging around to Peter for answers.

The young King shrugged helplessly, a hand raking through his blond hair in agitation. “I woke up and you were gone. Orieus and I took off after you… When we found you you talked about going to someone. To _him_. You said he was alone and in pain. You were desperate to get to him.”

“Who?” You whispered.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “You didn’t seem to either.”

Your fingers slowly rose to touch your face. As they made contact, you started in surprise, looking at your hand. You hadn’t realised you had been crying Peter realised. You stared at your fingertips, the wetness upon them, and then a light shiver ran around your body. Peter, unable to stay back, stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. A shudder escaped you as his warmth enclosed you.

“What’s happening to me?” Your voice sounded small.

Peter felt a stab of fear in his gut at your words. You had shown him many emotions over the last few days. Anger, indignation, hurt… Happiness, excitement, sympathy. But he had never seen you truly afraid until this moment. Your lip trembled slightly as you stared up into his face, fingers gripping his arms tightly.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t know…”

Orieus watched him with impassive eyes. Peter’s earlier words came flooding back to him, but in that moment he didn’t care. There was no one to see, no one but his trusted general. Even if there had been people to see, Peter wasn’t sure if he would have been able to stop himself from comforting you. He had hardened himself towards you when he had told you nothing could happen between the two of you, but your vulnerability burrowed under the cracks in his resolve.

“Come on,” he told you quietly, keeping him arm around your waist as he lead you to the unicorn.

His touch was gentle as he boosted you up onto it. Small tremors continued to run across your skin. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the cold or fear. Still, he did what he could. Nimbly, he climbed up onto the back of unicorn, settling himself behind you. Your back rested against his chest, and he slid one arm around you. The other found the reigns of the unicorn, not that the creature really needed them.

He kicked his heels gently against its snowy flank, urging it to start trotting. It instantly obeyed the command, and then you were off back to the camp. He leaned forward, so that his head rested on top of your shoulder. Sometimes, (with the unicorn’s motion prompting you) it jerked up and hit off his chin, but still he remained. Your head turned slightly, so your temple rested against the side of his. You relaxed back into him, into the warmth of his body.

“I’m scared, Peter,” you mumbled.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.

His voice was so low, a rumble almost lost in the breeze. He wasn’t sure that you even heard it. Regardless, you didn’t speak, and the journey passed in silence.

It took longer to reach the camp than it had been when setting off. That was largely due to the fact that Peter and Orieus were not racing through the woods at break-neck speed, but still. The initial sound that you knew signalled your return was the shouts of soldiers as they raced through the woods. The commotion only intensified as Peter, Orieus, and yourself rode back into the camp.

Shouts and yelled echoed around you until your head spun. Your only anchors were Peter’s chest against your back, and his warm, minty breath puffing against your ear. He slid from the saddle first, and then twisted to face you. His arms opened, and you half-fell into them, exhaustion over-coming you. Peter let out a grunt and staggered slightly, but you did not hit the ground. He steadied you and then crouched in-front of you, hands on your shoulders. Your head was drooping against your chest, your breathing heavy and laboured.  

“Is she alright?” Another raspy voice asked desperately. “Is she _alright?!”_

Edmund pushed his way through the throng of men, concern written all over his pale features. The younger King stepped up behind Peter, peering at you worriedly.

“She’s okay,” Peter said. “Just exhausted and very, very scared.”

“What happened to her?” The Lord of Archenland asked.

There was audible suspicion in his tone.

Peter’s blue eyes turned cold as he rounded on the man. He could feel Edmund doing the same at his side. He didn’t have to look to see the anger flaring up in his younger brother’s eyes. The lord, despite the fact that he was over twenty years Peter’s senior, quailed slightly under the simmering gaze of two kings.

“She was in a trance,” Orieus’s voice boomed out. “We need to be careful. There may be sirens around.”

“Sirens who’s cries were only heard by one girl?” The lord’s son said skeptically.

“The Priestess has abilities. Heightened senses, among her other magical inclinations. It is plausible that she hears further than we do, which is why she was the first to fall under the siren’s song.”

Peter swallowed his surprise that Orieus was sticking up for you. He had thought after his earlier words the general would be firmly in the ranks of the suspicious. It indeed seemed that he was wrong. Something about the lost, terrified look on your face must have changed him.

“I-I don’t remember anything,” your voice rang out weakly. “I don’t know if that helps, but I don’t remember anything. I was just staring at the fire, and then I was woken by King Peter and General Orieus in the forest. I swear it. On the Lion.” Peter could see tears glistening in your eyes. You struggled to speak for a few moments, before you choked the words out. “I don’t know what’s happening to me?”

You burst into tears. A shocked silence covered the camp. Edmund stepped up beside you, before Peter could react. The younger Pevensie brother wrapped you in his arms, rocking you back and forth soothingly. Your hands gripped his back as you cried into his chest, sobs wracking your body. Peter put an unsteady hand on your shoulder, before turning to address the group before him once more.

“We’ll take another three hours rest. Rotations need to be changed. A third guard will be needed each night to stay outside the High Priestess’s tent.”

You pulled yourself from Edmund, trying to protest. “Peter, no, I-”

“______,” he said soothingly. His hand shot out to take hold of your elbow, gently pulling you away from his brother and towards him. “I’m sorry, but if there is a siren out there and you can hear it, we can’t run the risk of you wandering off again. And you certainly cannot be on guard duty.”

“No,” you shook your head again.

“Yes,” Peter said. “God help me, I will stay outside of your tent my damn self if I have to.”

Your words shocked both yourself and him. Your mouth fell open and you blinked at him in shocked surprise. He stiffened, his eyes running challengingly across the crowd before him. Everyone averted their eyes. Satisfied, he met your gaze once more.

He was the King. All earlier thought was abandoned. He was the King, and he could do as he wished. Peter would quell any potential rumours before they grew rampant, he swore it to himself.

Mutely, you nodded.

Peter’s arm wrapped around you, tugging you into his side. His muscular limb was warm against your back as he guided you back into the camp and towards your tent. Goosebumps stood out on your skin as you wandered back. When you reached the tent, Peter knelt down and pushed the flap back. You crouched, and then half-fell into it, curling up on your bed.

“Are you okay?” Peter’s voice was soft.

You lifted your head from the blanket, and shook it slightly. Then you sighed, settling back down. You slid your hand under your face. “I will be. I just... I don't know why I'm crying so much. I don't even feel that upset, but then there's _something else_... I don't know. Maybe I just need to sleep.”

Peter leaned forward to close the tent flap, to give you your privacy. It fell in-front of his face. Then it was ripped back, revealing your paling face. You seemed to have lunged for it, Peter registered. He was slightly shocked by how quickly you had moved when he had let the curtain fall.

“Don’t close it!” You told him desperately. “Just… Don’t close it, okay?”

“I won’t,” Peter said soothingly, touching your arm lightly. “I’ll leave it open, alright?”

“Yeah. Good,” you swallowed, laying back down. "Thanks."

Peter settled against the front of your tent, back resting against the fabric. You positioned yourself on the opposite side inside the tent, so that you were able to see most of him. Peter didn’t say anything else, just stared into the darkness. He listened to your breathing. At first it was fairly rapid, signalling to him that you were still awake. Eventually, however, it began to grow slower. Within an hour, you were snoring slightly again.

Peter blinked, feeling pretty exhausted himself. Part of him figured that he could sleep, that he would wake up if you tried to leave. Then he remembered that he had been asleep on your shoulder and hadn’t woken when you had left, so he figured he was better off keeping himself up. It proved slightly harder than expected.

He hadn’t been able to sleep for the last few days. Of course it was ironic that now that he actually felt like he could sleep, he couldn’t.

He slapped his face once, trying to force his eyes back open. Tiredly, he rubbed a hand over his face and yawned.

Another voice rang out, loud in the darkness. “You know, if you want to sleep I can take over here.”

He looked up to see Edmund approaching him. The younger Pevensie had his heavy dark cloak wrapped tightly around his body. His nose ran slightly, and from his sweaty sheen it was obvious that he was still not completely well. However, his eyes were keen and alert. He stopped in-front of Peter, looking down at his elder brother. Peter met his gaze from his seated position on the ground.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” The older one asked.

Edmund shrugged. “I don’t think I can. I've rested for hours. And… do you think she’s going to be alright?”

Peter risked a glance back at you before he attempted to answer. You were fast asleep. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. He figured it was safe to answer.

“I don’t know,” he confessed honestly. “I have no idea what happened tonight… You should have seen her, Ed. I’ve never seen anything like it. Frankly, it was terrifying.”

Edmund nervously chewed his lip, and settled down beside his brother. He paused for a moment, and then shifted, removing the cloak from its cocoon around his body. He then spread it out over the both of them, sharing its warmth with his elder sibling. Peter smiled at him in thanks, and a somewhat tense silence spread over the two.

“Do you like her?” Peter asked suddenly, unable to help himself.

Immediately, he clammed up. He shook his head, annoyed at himself for being so weak as to ask. When he finally looked back over at his brother, Edmund was regarding him with an amused smile. The younger King had a knowing gleam in his dark brown eyes. Peter frowned, shifting restlessly as he waited for an answer.

“Not in that way,” Edmund eventually chuckled, shaking his head. “I think… I think she’s fast becoming my friend. Or I like to think that she is. She’s one of the few people I feel like I can be honest around. That I can really relax around.”

“Understandable,” Peter nodded. You made him feel at ease too. And other things, but he pushed that to the side. “She’s a good person.”

“She is,” Edmund sighed, “and we dragged her into this mess on her first night here.”

Peter smiled bitterly. “Us Pevensies and our complete inability to simply do as we’re told.”

Edmund inclined his head. When he spoke, his tone was light. However there was a certain air to it. “I’d like to think that some of us have become better at that.”

Peter considered it for a moment, before a small grin crossed his face. “Yes. I believe they have.”

Edmund’s head ducked slightly, the only sign that he was pleased by the words. Peter bumped his shoulder into Edmund’s, and the latter returned the fond gesture. A few minutes of companionable silence passed.

“I won’t ask you,” Edmund said suddenly.

Peter’s brow crinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The question you asked me,” Edmund explained. “I won’t ask you it back.”

Peter said nothing, suddenly becoming very interested in some dirt under his nails.

Edmund chuckled. “I already know the answer.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, to protest. He cut off as a mournful cry echoed out from the distance. Beside him, Edmund froze. The howl was long and wavering, full of pain and anguish. It was distant, but loud all the same. It seemed to be coming from the mountain range. Peter had to wonder at what beast was large enough to be heard from so far.

You whimpered inside the tent, tossing and turning violently amongst your blankets. When Peter looked back, he saw tears streaking down your face again. Your chest shuddered. Blankets balled in your fist as you let out a wail, voice rising in perfect synchrony with the strange scream. As soon as the cry stopped, your distressed motions ceased. The snoring resumed.

Peter could only stare in shock, feeling a pit of horror growing in his stomach. Edmund had followed his gaze. The younger of the brothers swallowed audibly as he regarded you, the cogs in his mind visibly turning. Peter’s head twisted back and forth upon his neck; looking from you, to the mountains, back to you, and then back to the mountains again.

“That’s no siren,” Edmund rasped shakily.

Peter nodded, his hand going to his mouth.

“No,” he mumbled. “I have no idea what that is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Any guesses? One part of it is simple enough, but I'm curious to see of anyone can get it EXACTLY right. I won't say right or wrong, just curious to see what you all think it was!


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